Sure as the Setting Sun
by Mugiwara N0 Luffy
Summary: Mob never aimed to be a hero. He only wanted to make sure his quirk never hurt anyone ever again. However, an incident that occurs in his third year of middle school spurs him into action despite his wishes. Mob enters into UA academy, the top heroics school in all of Japan, and winds up with several new friends and much more trouble than he bargained for. (By bunnyscribe on AO3)
1. Shigeo Kageyama: Origin

**Alright, so now for something different. I was scrolling through the MHA reddit when I stumbled upon some fan art of Mob in UA. I was immediately interested when I found out that it was based off a fanfic on AO3 and, lo and behold, it turns out to be one written very well by a certain bunnyscribe! But as someone who doesn't browse AO3 that often, I felt that it deserved to get more attention on FFN and took a chance in asking if the writer would mind if I reposted it here. As things would have it, they were completely okay with the idea, and so now I'm posting it up for everyone on FFN to see! I hope you all enjoy this story and know that I have NOTHING to do with what's written and am only reposting it as a fan. Please enjoy!**

**Disclaimer: Neither me or bunnyscribe own Mob Psycho 100 or My Hero Academia**

**Shigeo Kageyama: Origin**

**By: Bunnyscribe (AO3)**

"I'm sorry Mob-kun," Tsubomi says apologetically. "I just can't reciprocate your feelings right now."

She genuinely does look sorry as she says it, her eyes filled with a gentle sort of pity. A soft smile sits on her face, sad and pretty, but it does nothing to soften the crushing blow of her words.

"I'm not interested in a relationship right now," she says. "The timing is all wrong. I'm moving, I'm starting high school soon, and I've got my future to worry about. Even if I want to, adding a long distance relationship would just be too much."

She breaks Mob gaze almost guilty, her eyes shifting down the bouquet of flowers. She bites her lip.

"You understand," she says, voice quiet, desperate, "don't you?"

Mob stares at her blankly, attempting to make sense of the situation. Emotions roll around like waves under layers of suppression, an invisible counter sitting at seventy-nine...seventy-nine...seventy-nine…

"I understand," he says finally, less because it's the truth and more because it feels like the right thing to say.

And it seems his intuition has done right by him for once, as Tsubomi looks him in the eyes again, her face warmer than it had been a moment ago.

"Thank you," she says. She ghosts her fingertips atop Mob's arm. "I'm glad you understand, we all have to plan for the future."

Mob suddenly thinks about the blank academic aspersions sheet that he had gotten in class a week prior, sitting on his desk at home and collecting dust. Something stirs in him, though his consciousness instinctively crushes it down before he can even dwell on what it is.

"Yes," he says, his voice hollow even to his own ears. "The future is very important."

Tsubomi's smile twinges as if something had just poked at it. She doesn't falter, however, leaning down to press a light kiss against Mob's temple.

She pulls back so quickly that Mob barely even has time to process it. He raises a hand, pressing it against the spot where pressure had been. He realizes, despite hoping for this for two years, he actually doesn't know how to react.

The steady pressure in him moves like a heartbeat in response to his confusion; spiking and dipping before evening out again. Mob barely notices.

"Thank you," Tsubomi says again. She backs away from him, movements delicate as she does, like she's being extra careful not to crack any eggshells she's standing on. "I'll see you at school, Mob-kun."

"Wait," Mob says.

Tsubomi freezes up mid turn, suddenly still as a statue. She slowly turns her head, looking back at Mob with an expression that he can't read.

"Please," Mob tacks on a moment too late.

"...Yes?" Tsubomi prompts after a moment of awkward pause.

"Tsubomi-chan, I just wanted to thank you," Mob says, his gaze drifting down towards his feet. "My master told me recently that is the journey that matters and not the destination. My feelings for you allowed me to grow, so I can not regret them. I-"

Mob risks a glance up, meeting Tsubomi's awestruck gaze head-on. He flushes with embarrassment, unused to that type of expression being directed at someone as plain as him. His eyes dart back down to his feet, his head tilting so the red of his cheeks won't be as obvious.

"-Thank you for meeting me," he finishes lamely.

Tsubomi chuckles. "You're a really good person, Mob-kun," she says. "I hope you find something you really want."

And with that final, confusing sentiment, Tsubomi turns around and walks away.

Mob watches as she goes, staring after her retreating back until it disappears around a bend in the path. He stands there long after she's gone, unsure of what to do next.

It's only the disappearance of the sun that gets him moving again, aware that his family will worry if he arrives home too late after dark.

His body feels heavy as he walks like he had just loaded some kind of burden onto it instead of relieving one. He grasps around inside himself for some kind of solution, an answer to an unknown question, but his subconscious stubbornly keeps it on lockdown.

He makes it to the entrance of the park without recollection of how he got there, and probably would've continued home in that trance had someone not laid a hand on his shoulder.

He turns around and finds himself looking up at a smiling mask.

"Hello young man," says a distinctly feminine voice. "I'd like a moment of your time if you would."

"I'm not interested in buying anything," Mob says, and goes to keep walking.

However, the person holding him has other plans. The hand on his shoulder grips tighter, strong enough to lock him into place but not quite enough to hurt. The person's head lolls down as if they were too woozy to keep it upright.

"Now one second, sir," they say, a slight edge in their voice. The tilt in their head covers the masks in shadow, changing the smiling face into something far more menacing. "You look troubled, I just want to help you."

"I'm fine," Mob says. "Thank you though."

"It must be very difficult coming from such a rough home life," the person prods, tugging on Mob's shoulder.

Mob stumbles back a half step. "My home life is good, I love my family very much," he says. "Could you let me go now?"

The fingers grip tighter, nails biting into his uniform, before easing up. "Are your grades good?" the person asks.

"They're alright," Mob says, pulling himself forward and breaking the person's hold on him. "I'm not really concerned about them."

The person hums as Mob moves to leave, tilting their head backward in an exaggerated motion and pulling their hand up to their chin. "Is it...an issue with love?"

Mob stops in his tracks, throwing a dark look over his shoulder.

"Aha!" the person exclaims. "It seems I've got it!"

"How did you know about that?" Mob asks.

The person in the mask stares at him, the silence growing tenser as the moments pass. "If you are troubled come with me," they finally say, "I know someone who can help you."

Mob hesitates. "I have to go home…"

"You'll become popular," the person says.

Mob thinks of all his training, all that work that went into strengthening his body in order to stop relying on his quirk. He had wanted to find something charming about himself, desperately searching for solutions for problems like love and popularity.

And he had failed.

"Alright," Mob says. "Let's go."

.-.-.

The person takes him to a group of dilapidated apartments little ways away from the park, a poor area that was never truly repaired after a major villain attack a few months back. They stop in front of one that's not as quite as destroyed as the others, though through a broken windows Mob can see the chaotic toss up of objects and the cracks in its structure.

"I know it doesn't look like much," the person says, opening the door before glancing over their shoulder at Mob, "but this is the sacred meeting place of LOL."

"LOL?" Mob asks, following them inside.

The person says something else, but Mob's attention jumps to water droplets falling from the ceiling. It hasn't rained in days as far a Mob knows, so there must be a pool of water on one of the upper levels. He makes a mental note to keep an eye out for mold.

"...And just remember," the person says, their hand on Mob's arm snapping him back into the conversation. "LOL is in no way, shape, or form a suspicious cult."

The person pulls him into a now open elevator. They quickly hit a button, and the doors shut slowly, like a trap triggered in a tomb, sealing away Mob's last hope of escape.

The elevator is rickety, moving slowly down towards the basement with jolts and groans. Mob tilts his head up and is greeted with a flickering fluorescent light. The sound of machinery grinding is the only sound that fills up the small elevator, it's occupants both silent and unreadable.

After a few minutes of descent, the elevator creaks to a stop and the doors slide open with a small, barely heard ding. Light floods inside the elevator and Mob has to squint to be able to face it directly. A mass amount of blurry shapes fill the room, all chattering amicably amongst each other.

It takes a second for Mob's eyes to adjust and realize that they're all just people, hundreds of them, crammed from wall to wall in the basement. Every one of them bears a smiling mask, hiding their faces from view, and clothes that are in slight disrepair. Whether is filthy shoes, holes in clothing patched together in mismatched fabrics, or shirts that look far too big, they all jointly carry some symbol of poverty. Mob wonders to himself if they live around here.

He turns back to ask his guide but finds that they have disappeared.

"Oh! A boy without a smile mask!" someone shouts.

"A newcomer!" another chimes in.

"We should get him to the stage!" a third voice says, and a chorus of other voices make noises of agreement.

Mob barely has time to blink before he's being hoisted into the air by complete strangers. "No," he says, too quiet to be heard over the jovial crowd. "Please, don't touch me."

His request goes unnoticed, as he is flung from person to person in a humanized game of hot potato. With the rise in his discomfort, despite how desperately he attempts to smother his emotions, his counter ticks up.

_Eighty percent._

Mob feet finally hit solid wood and he spins around so fast he almost trips, wobbling in place. He looks out over the crowd, but the glaring stage lights are so bright that he can't see anything past them. Including the elevator, he notes with a level of agitation.

"Mob-kun?" a voice asks, sounding surprised.

He turns, meeting eyes with a girl dressed up in a Salt Middle School uniform. The light blue tint of her skin clashes against the bright red velvet of the curtains, almost washing her out. She stands, back rigidly straight, her posture so taut it almost looks like it hurts. Her finger twitches over the button on the camera hanging around her neck.

She squints at him, as if in disbelief. "Why are you here?" she asks.

_Ahh, she's from my class _, Mob thinks as he struggles for a name, unable to pull one out of his brain despite the semblance of familiarity he has with her. He remembers her quirk has something to do with her eyes...maybe?

"Oh," he says, a polite but unsteady smile forming on his face as he glances from her back out to the crowd. "Someone brought me here, but I'd li-"

Mob is interrupted by the sudden screeching of the crowd. "LORD DIMPLE!" comes the harmonious cry, followed by applause and whistling.

Mob looks past the girl to where another figure is shuffling out from behind the curtains. He too bears a smiling mask, hiding whatever true expression he has underneath of it. However, whereas the rest of the group dressed in worn down clothes, this man wears an extremely fancy suit. It looks as uncomfortable as it does expensive, and Mob would probably feel bad for the man if he didn't look so confident in it.

The man steps with clumping steps to the front of the stage and waves a hand above his head.

The cheering audience abruptly goes silent.

"Welcome everyone!" comes a booming voice from behind the man's smile mask. "I, Lord Dimple, have arrived to share a wealth of happiness with you all! But first…"

Dimple produces a large bucket, seemingly out of nowhere, and drops it into the hands of a person below him. The person scrambles to pull something out of their pocket and drop it inside. Coins, Mob hazards a guess at the sound of the metallic clink that comes when they hit the bottom. The bucket is passed to the next person and the process is repeated.

"We must give to the church!" Dimple says. "The wealth of the church is the wealth of us all!"

A man with horns to Mob's right, also without a smiling mask, scoffs. "So I was right," he says, loud enough to be heard over the clanking of coins. "This is just all one big scam."

There's a pause before Dimple's head slowly tilts, the eyes of the mask almost eerily giving the man a once over. "It appears," he says, voice dripping in honey, "we have a skeptic."

The crowd bursts into uproarious laughter, though Mob doesn't think anyone said anything funny. It stretches on an ungodly amount of time, to the point where the sound of it grates against Mob's ears like concrete. _Can't they just get to the point already? _he thinks, glancing up to the sweating face of the man next to him.

"Stoooooop!" Dimple shouts, and again, the laughter abruptly comes to a halt. Dimple turns again to look at the man. "My good sir," he says. "You would not be here if you were entirely doubtful of this organization. Believe me, my power will bring good fortune into your life, a wealth of happiness."

"You mean your quirk?" the horned man asks.

"No," Dimple answers, his head tilting and covering all but the eyes of his mask into shadow. "My divine power. A power so powerful it just can't be contained into the measly word, 'quirk'! A gift, to me, from the Gods themselves! The power of-" he swoops a hand out towards the crowd- "laughter!"

The crowd devolves into laughter. Mob feels like this is getting old.

"Now," Dimple says, turning back to the audience. "Friends, family of the church, today we have three new members joining us! What a wonderful surprise! Today they shall smile and laugh, and their burdens will lessen! For we all know-" his voices drops here, sinking into something far more dangerous that goes right over Mob's head- "those who don't laugh will continue with an unhappy life...until death."

This actually seems to startle a laugh out of the horned man. "Are you serious?" he asks, looking surprised that he's even speaking. "If just laughter makes your life easier, then you all must not be suffering through any hardships."

The room is silent after that, tense in a way that Mob can't quite pick up on. Next to him, the girl from his class twitches, sweat beading down her forehead as her eyes sweep over the crowd. Her gaze lands where the elevator should be.

"Mezato-san?" Mob asks quietly, her name suddenly popping into his brain alongside his concern. "Are you alright?"

She jumps, glancing over at him and then back out towards the elevator. "I-"

"Who is this man?" Dimple asks.

"I found him sitting on a bench in the park," a person says, raising their hand out of the crowd. "He was looking blankly up at the sky doing nothing."

"Ahh," Dimple says. "Ahh, ahh, ahhhh...A victim of the recession, how unlucky."

The horned man jolts in the corner of Mob's eye as if having been struck by something.

"However sir, you needn't worry!" Dimple exclaims. He begins moving over to the three of them on stage, his steps graceful and light like a hunter stalking up to its prey. "We have just the cure here at LOL! You will smile again."

Mob goes stumbling back down into the crowd.

It takes him a second to realize he's been pushed, and another to register the hands now grasping at him. They pull him, tugging his arms and legs, fingers tapping his waist, brushing against his face, too much, too suddenly. Sweat pours out of him, hot and horribly uncomfortable.

The hands puppeteer him down to the floor, before disappearing completely.

Mob can still feel the imprints they left against his skin, unnaturally warm spots that feel wrong and foreign.

"Now!" Dimple says, now alone on the stage and standing on the edge. He swoops his arms out in a wide and flowy gesture, the eyes of the smiling mask piercing into Mob's. "Let's give our new members a taste of happiness, shall we?"

An object gets thrust over Mob's face, obstructing his vision momentarily. He blinks, the world coming back slightly darker than it was before. He's confused for a moment before coming to the conclusion that he's seeing through a smile mask.

Something buzzes in the back of his head, faint but still there. The urge to please, to obey someone wholeheartedly and find joy in their happiness. However, because it's so small and so oddly out of place, Mob's subconscious swallows the feeling whole before he has time to ponder where it might have come from.

"Yes?" Dimple says, speech muffled but curiosity evident in his tone. "It appears you have something on your mind."

"...Yes," Mezato says slowly.

Mob turns the sound of her voice and finds her to his right, staring down at the camera she holds in her hands. She bites her lips, her shoulder so tense that they almost are touching her ears. And then, as if a switch has been flicked within, something steels over in her eyes. She straightens herself out, posture relaxing into something confident and authoritative that Mob can only dream of.

"I-" Mezato swallows- "This religious cult, LOL. You were only formed around month ago, weren't you? And yet, you already have these many supporters? It's just too suspicious."

Dimple chuckles, "Oh my...You weren't brought here by one of my followers, were you?"

At this, Mezato puffs herself up, going from confident to borderline aggressive. She brandishes her camera up like a weapon, holding it up for everyone to see. "I am Mezato! A future investigative reporter! I've heard some bad rumors about you, and I'm here to expose them to the public!"

"Bad rumors?"

"You're brainwashing these people, perhaps with the assistance of a quirk," Mezato says, unwavering in her accusation.

Dimple huffs, standing up straighter and gripping his hands together behind his back. He radiates confidence to the point where even Mob knows whatever expression is lying under Dimple's mask is smug.

"I am not a fraud," Dimple says, no ounce of uncertainty in his voice. "I shall prove it." He lifts up a hand and gestures over towards the crowd.

Mob catches the sight the horned man from earlier, who has apparently also had a smiling mask shoved onto him. The man reaches up, pulling the mask slightly off of his face to reveal an unsettling smile. His eyes scrunch up as he begins to laugh hysterically, his shoulders bouncing from the force of it. The joy is unprompted, the unnaturalness of throwing Mob off.

"Hun, this is weird…" the horned man says, his fingertips coming up to brush against his lips as if they were a novelty. "I'm not happy, but I'm still smiling…"

People surrounding the man burst into laughter as well, sharing congratulations and telling him how wonderful he looks. The bucket Dimple had handed out before, now filled almost to the brim with loose yen, is thrust in front of the man.

"Give thanks!" someone shouts, and the rest burst into an enthusiastic agreement.

The man, still laughing, starts feverishly rooting through his pockets. He pulls out a wallet on the third one he checks, jerkily opening it and dumping its contents into the bucket.

"Do you believe us now?" Dimple asks. His voice reminds Mob of his mother's when she's asking him a question she already knows the answer to. A scolding tone that screams, there's a right way to answer this.

Mezato hesitates for the first time since she started talking, her camera shaking in her hand. "It appears...I've overstepped my boundaries," she says, taking a small step backward. "You really do seem to be laughing to feel better. I'm sorry if I caused you any trouble." Another step back. "I'll be going now."

"You think you can come in here, disrespect our happiness, and leave?" Dimple asks, venomous. "You can not just escape the consequences of your actions. You don't even need to apologize, just show to us that you mean it."

Mezato squeaks as hands latch onto her arms, keeping her from moving back towards the elevator. "I'm really sorry!" she says, pitch fluctuating with her nerves. "I won't report anything about this, but I'd really like to leave now."

The crowd is honing in on Mezato now, surrounding her like a group of ravenous predators after a week with no prey.

Mezato struggles, panic overcoming her features. "Please! I just want to go home!"

"No," Dimple says. "Not until you laugh."

"Excuse me."

_Eighty-five percent._

Everything in the room stops suddenly, like a movie put on pause during its climax. All heads slowly turn over to Mob, who has raised his hand in interruption.

"She doesn't want to laugh," Mob says bluntly. "You should let her go home, she's scared."

"Oh?" Dimple says, tilting his head this way and that as he inspects Mob. "Who is this?"

"I found him at the park looking troubled!" a voice Mob recognizes as the person who brought him here cries out from the middle of the crowd. "He was having trouble with love!"

"Not really," Mob says, lifting up a hand to pull the smile mask off his face. His expression remains neutral, but agitation lines his posture. "Not enough trouble to stay here."

The mask hits the floor with a small clatter which seems to break the spell on the room. Hushed, surprised murmurs break out amongst the crowd. Words like "no smile" and "no laugh" are thrown around like curses.

Dimple tenses. "Y-young lad!" he stammers as Mob walks over to Mezato and grabs her arm, guiding her towards the elevator. "If you can't laugh, how do you hope to live a fulfilling life?! This is your chance to take a hold of your life and change it for the better! Laugh and just let me help you!"

Mob pauses in his walk, throwing a blank look over his shoulder. "I'm not going to laugh," he says, voice cold enough to send a shock through the room.

Dimple jolts, and looks around at the crowd frantically. The air has gone from manically jovial to anxious confusion in a second. "Why are we here?" a person asks, and is met with nothing but unsure answers. "I don't know why, but that boy made me not want to laugh," another says.

Dimple strains, flexing out his hands and waving them over the crowd, which immediately bursts into laughter. "We're here because we're happy! That's right!"

"Followers!" Dimple shouts. He gives a strained chuckle like he's somehow out of breath despite not moving. "Please take a look! These children, they can not find our treasure trove of happiness on their own! We can not just leave them like this! They're miserable! Only we can help them! Everyone, combine your strength and restrain them! I shall unleash their laughter!"

Arms start wrapping around Mob's clinging onto him and weighing him down. Mezato is ripped from his grip, and he can see the same tangle of limbs attaching themselves to her as well. She looks absolutely terrified but still puts on a valiant struggle all the same. Something inside him stirs around furiously as he notices the sheen of tears in her eyes.

"Hold on a second," Mob says, barely heard over the amicable chattering of the crowd. "Let us go."

Dimple jumps down into the crowd, moving towards them with rapid steps. The audience parts for him, almost stumbling to get out of his way. He raises a hand towards Mob's face, "Behold my divine power."

The hand covers his face and Mob can almost feel his emotions spilling over, the invisible counter ticking up rapidly. _Eighty-eight, eighty-nine, ninety, ninety, ninety _.

"Why are you resisting so hard?" Dimple asks. "You have no enemies here, who are you fighting? We all just want you to find your happiness. Go with the flow."

Energy suddenly surrounds Mob, the same urge to please and obey as before only with slightly more intensity than before. The emotional vacuum inside of him consumes it, converting the energy into something new and far more dangerous.

Others around him seem affected though, everyone laughing and wheezing around him like they had just seen the funniest thing. He can even hear Mezato's laughter ringing out next to him, familiar only in its rarity, as he had only heard her laugh once after a boy in class tripped and ripped a clean hole in the back of his pants.

Mob attempts desperately to figure out what he's missing, what he's overlooking that somehow everyone else has noticed.

Mob flashes back to elementary school, to the jeers made about emotionless Mob, to the jokes he could just never understand. "Jeez Mob," a younger Tsubomi says in his head, "can't you read the atmosphere already?"

_Ninety-four _.

The hand on Mob's face snaps back as if had been electrocuted. "What was that?" Dimple whispers, voice a mixture of furious and awed. He stares down at his hand before glancing back up to Mob's unsmiling face. "What was that?"

The crowd seems untroubled by their leader's agitation, simply finding it to be something else to laugh at. "Master Dimple seems upset!" one voice notes among a chorus of amusement.

Hands land on Mob's face pulling his cheeks this way and that. "Are you dead?!" he shouts, showing no hesitation to invade Mob's personal space. "Laugh already! Laugh, you brat!"

_Oh _, Mob thinks, _this person is using a quirk._

_Ninety-six._

"Look," Mob says, and the all the hands retreat from him at once. "I cannot laugh to please you, I am just unable to. If even you can't make me laugh with your power, I don't think anyone can. I just really suck at going with the flow."

_Ninety-eight._

"I don't want to stop your fun, so please let me and Mezato-san go now."

Dimple scoffs. "So you don't have emotions, do you?" he says, leaning over towards Mob. His smiling mask glints in the light, reflecting Mob's face in its pupils. "No wonder you're having trouble with love, you can't even laugh with the girl you like. Human beings respond to the emotions of others, but you simply cannot. You can't cry or be moved with others. You'll simply be alone forever.

This is your last chance to escape that. Laugh," Dimple orders.

A feeling hot and sharp fills Mob to the brim, overwhelming him in its entirety. He can feel the blood pumping through his veins, thicker somehow as it rushes towards his head at an alarming pace. His palms are sweaty and he clutches them into fists by his sides. He looks up at Dimple through his bangs.

"Use your quirk," he says, "and make me."

The crowd stops laughing.

"Mob-kun," Mezato says.

Mob's unsure of what kind of expression he's wearing when he turns to face her, but it must be something unpleasant as she jolts the second their eyes meet. He can almost bring himself to feel guilty about it, but the feeling is quickly drowned out by the bitter fires burning in his brain.

"You…" Dimple says, dragging Mob's attention back to him. He clutches his head in his hand, and Mob can see veins popping out of it in rage. "I see...your quirk, it's similar to mine. I tried to start a peaceful religion in order to make money, one without any bloodshed. But brat...you're just a nuisance.

"In order for me to reach my goals, I must eliminate all nuisances."

The atmosphere of the room shifts suddenly, the weight of the air pressing down on all the occupants. The crowd shocks to attention, even Mezato seems affected by whatever has spread through the group. Then everyone lurches at Mob, their bodies moving like cheap puppets. They pile on top of him, a mass of bodies pinning him against the floor.

A burst of energy exits Mob, leaving enormous cracks on the floor and lifting all the followers into the air as though they defied gravity. Mob pushes himself up to his feet, slow and deliberate. His hair tosses back and forth as if blown by some kind of invisible wind.

_One hundred percent._

_Anger._

"I see," Mob says, lifting up a hand to examine it with almost no interest in the energy pulsating around it. "So the man was right then? This is all just a huge scam? That's pathetic."

Dimple stands across from him, his mask ripped off of his face and floating in the air above him. Dimple had hidden the face of a plain man underneath of it, average and ordinary in every way. His lips curled into a furious snarl, with big fat droplets of sweat rolling down his cheeks.

"So you have this type of quirk...No wonder the mask didn't work on you."

"Mask?" Mob asks, eyes snapping to Dimple. "So that was part of your trick."

"Yes," Dimple says, an unsteady smirk forming on his face. "They're embedded with my energy, allowing my brainwashing signals to influence whoever's wearing them more directly."

"It was so weak, I barely even felt it," Mob says. Dimple bristles in response, opening his mouth, but Mob waves a hand to silence him. "Anyway," he says, "all your followers are pinned to the ceiling now, you have no control over them. And if killing a member of your group is part of your teachings, then I'm going to have to call the police."

Dimple stares at Mob, left eye twitching.

"Sorry," Mob tacks on after a moment of silence.

Dimple laughs so hard that he guffaws. "Call the cops?" he asks incredulously. "What are you five?" He reaches into one of his suit pockets, pulling out a small knife which he twisted in the light. His expression is exaggerated by the shadows underneath his eyes. "I'm going to kill you, you little shit."

Mob's frown deepens, his eyes don't leave the knife. "I'm not going to fight you," he says.

"Do you think you have a choice?" Dimple asks. And then he lunges.

Mob, caught off guard by the sudden turn of events, allows Dimple one clean hit. A shallow swipe against his cheek forming a cut that barely even bleeds.

Mob lifts up his hand on reflex and a burst of psychic energy that comes from it sends Dimple flying across the room.

A bitter satisfaction fills Mob, the livid parts of him absolutely eager to have landed a hit. However, Dimple takes longer than he should getting up, and when he does something in Mob's gut twists with the scrapes on his face and arms.

"Come on now," Dimple says, and the sound of smugness in his tone chases away any guilt Mob might have felt. "Don't act like some kind of pissed off human, you emotionless animal!"

Dimple comes charging again.

The seconds it takes Dimple to close the distance between them feels like an eternity to Mob. He thinks of coins dropping into a bucket, thinks of fancy suits and torn clothes, thinks of Mezato's panicked face.

He thinks of Tsubomi.

The knife comes towards his face again, but this time Mob's hand snaps up and catches Dimple's wrist.

Mob uses psychic energy to push Dimple's feet out from under him, letting go of his fist and allowing him to fall on his back to the floor.

He stomps Dimple's wrist, hard enough to force him to drop the knife. Before it can even hit the floor, however, it goes flying and embeds itself in the wall furthest away from them.

"Y...You…" Dimple wheezes, expression stricken.

"You're the one who requested to see my emotions," Mob tells him, removing his foot. "This is what happens when I let them loose."

Dimple flips over and scrambles to get away, but Mob slams him towards the ground with his mind before he can get more than a couple inches.

"You can't just escape the consequences of your actions," Mob says, voice dull with rage.

Dimple throws a panicky look up at him. "You're a monster," he says.

"I know," Mob replies, lifting up a foot. "I'm the worst."

He lands a kick to Dimple's jaw in just the spot his master taught him. Dimple slumps onto the ground, now thoroughly unconscious.

Mob feels a hollow victory at the sight of a bruise forming on the Dimple's chin, the angry feelings inside of him, appeased, dissipate as though they were never there in the first place. He ponders the emptiness they leave behind.

From the ceiling, confused shouts and squealing erupts, snapping Mob out of his thoughts. He tilts his head back and is and is met with an extremely frightened crowd of people, hovering in the air.

"Oh," he says.

.-.-.

It takes five knocks before his master finally cracks open the door. His pajamas are rumpled, his blond hair sticking up in odd directions. He blinks a few times at Mob, appearing to take in his disheveled appearance in stages. His eyes linger against Mob's cheek. He opens the door the rest of the way.

"Well, if it isn't my favorite apprentice sidekick," he tells Mob.

"I'm your only sidekick," Mob says.

"That's what makes you my favorite," he says, waving a hand around before disappearing back into the apartment.

Mob lingers at the door. He went to find his master because it seemed like the best option at the time, texting his mother a lame excuse of studying late at a non-existent friend's house to explain his absence, but he's suddenly unsure of himself. He shouldn't be bothering his master this late, should he?

He should just go home.

"Make sure you shut the door behind you Mob!" his master calls from the kitchen.

The request pulls Mob into the apartment before he can think any more about it, shutting the door behind him. He pauses and then snaps the top lock on for good measure.

In the next few minutes, Mob finds himself sitting on a ratty, old chair that he had helped his master move into the apartment. "This is a training of your precision!" he had told Mob at the time, attempting to assemble the TV stand as Mob levitated the chair onto the fourth story balcony.

He snaps out of his reminiscing at a glass being pushed into his hands.

"What's this?" Mob asks.

"Warm milk," his master says, taking the seat across from him. "You looked like you needed it."

Mob doesn't want to acknowledge that, so he doesn't, instead taking a tiny sip of the milk.

"What's that?" Mob asks after a moment of pause, gesturing to an open book on the coffee table.

"A treatise about the effects of the displacement of civilians caused by the destruction that heroics causes," his master answers without a beat of hesitation, his eyes locked onto Mob. "So...what brings you here?"

"You weren't at your office."

His master scoffs, his hand swinging back and forth as though to brush off the statement. "Not this late at night, no." He stares at Mob, visible concern lining his features. "Do you even know what time it is?"

Mob shakes his head. He had hightailed it out of the building the second he could, not wanting to stick around for the aftermath, and found that the world had shifted from dusk to darkness in the time that he had been stuck in the building.

His master sighs, tilting his head back and rubbing his eyes. "Alright," he says. "Tell me what happened. Start from the beginning."

Mob stares down at his cup, taking a few seconds to figure out the best way to recount the evening's events in the least boring way he could.

"I confessed to Tsubomi today," he says finally because it feels like a good place to start.

He instantly regrets the decision though, as his master perks up in interest. "Oh! Did you? Good job Mob! See, I told you that you could do it! You really have gr-"

"She rejected my feelings."

His master stops short, his mouth still forming the syllable that his vocal chords hadn't gotten the chance to release. He deflates, his shoulders picking up tension that had disappeared a second ago. "Oh...Oh, Mob, I'm sorry."

Mob nods, not understanding the apology but accepting it anyway. "Then a new religious leader tried to brainwash my classmate and kill me, so I stopped him."

His master just stares.

Mob starts to sweat, glancing up at his master and then back down at his cup. "I didn't mean to use my quirk on him master, promise. I was scared he was going to hurt Mezato-san and it made me angry. And I was going to call the police like you told me, but he didn't let me. I'm sorry."

"Mob," his master says, and Mob's head snaps up at the hand that brushes against his. His master is closer now, out of his chair without Mob noticing. He makes a face like he just swallowed something slimy. "Did you get hurt?"

"Just my cheek."

His master nods. "Alright." He looks at the cut, his hand leaving Mob's and brushing against his cheek. "It doesn't look too deep, but make sure to keep an eye on it and disinfect it when you get home."

Mob nods and his master leans back, heaving a sigh.

"Alright," he says again, bringing a hand up to his chin and striking a thoughtful pose. He glances down at Mob, over to the book on the coffee table, and back at Mob. "There's something I've been meaning to talk to you about."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah," his master says and pauses, opens his mouth and closes it again.

It's rare that his master can't find the right words to say, but it's all too common for Mob, and so Mob waits politely.

"I don't think I have anything else I can teach you," his master finally settles on.

"What?" Mob asks.

"You've been training with me to get a handle on your quirk for a long time now, and with my help and the task of helping others, you've gotten a lot more proficient at it. That progress is something to be proud of. However!" his master points a finger in Mob's face. "My quirk, while powerful, is not suited to combat in the way that yours is."

"What is your quirk anyway master?" Mob asks suddenly. "I don't think you've ever told me what it's called."

His master twirls his finger around before pointing up to the ceiling. "Th-That's not important right now! What is important, right now, is your quirk. With it, you're far more likely to wind up making difficult choices in the face of dangerous situations _because _of its combative power. I've taught you some basic self-defense techniques, but," he glances at Mob's cheek, "I think you might need more guidance than that, from heroes who specialize in fighting to protect civilians and not just themselves. Mob! Have you filled out your academic aspersions yet?"

Mob shakes his head.

"Then, in order to become a great hero, like All Might or like me, Reigen Arataka; I believe you should enter into the greatest heroics academy in Japan! You've strengthened your body, now comes the time to strengthen your heart! You should take the UA entrance exam!"

"But master," Mob says, "I don't want to be a hero."

Reigen stumbles forward, as though the lost momentum in his speech had a physical effect. "What?"

"I don't want to be a hero," Mob repeats. "I'm only your sidekick to get better control over my quirk."

"Mob," Reigen says. "Today, when you fought against a villainous religious leader, were you fighting for just yourself?"

"Well, no," Mob says. "I didn't want him to hurt anyone else."

"And all those people you've helped at my agency, think about them. Would you not have wanted to help them if there was some other way to practice control over your quirk?"

Mob thinks for a long moment. "No, they still needed my help."

Reigen leans down, putting both of his hands on Mob's shoulders. "Mob," he says, "You're already a hero. Entering into a high school for heroics will just make you a better one, an official one."

Mob stares blankly at him.

Reigen sighs and stands up. "Just think about it, would you?" he says. Then he pats Mob's back, flashing a small smile at him. "Now, let's get you home. You look terrible."

.-.-.

Mob stares at the sheet of paper, the line getting shorter and shorter as more kids hand in their aspersions papers.

Before he knows it, Mob's at the front of the line, pushing his paper into the hands of his teacher.

"UA?" his teacher asks, staring down at him with an eyebrow raised. "That's a hard academy to get into Mob, are you sure you don't want to add a backup choice?"

"I'm sure," Mob says, "but thank you for your concern."

Mob leaves the classroom that day feeling lighter than he has in a long while.

_Two percent._

**To be continued…**

**Chapter End Notes**

**This thing is like 22 pages in google docs, lol XD It was a lot of fun to write though, and I have so many ideas for it! I want to write so much for this crossover, you guys wouldn't even believe**

**I am sadly in college, however, so updates will be slower. I'm aiming for every month or so, but I can't be sure of my workload, sorry!**

**However, if you want to ask me questions about this crossover, you can find me on tumblr! **

**Feel free to come and chat about whatever! :D**

**(Now for a note from me)**

**I did want to put the original link to the AO3 version of the story but uh... FFN isn't letting me. But don't worry, I'll be posting up more of the chapters for people to see soon enough. But if you can't wait, be sure to look up the story on AO3 itself under the same name by bunnyscribe! Hope you all enjoyed as much as I did! :)**


	2. Train Your Body, Train Your Heart!

**(Note from MNL: So I noticed a couple of people thought that the AN at the end of the last chapter was from me. No, it's bunnyscribe's AN that I copied from AO3. Me posting up this story affects none of the releases for my own projects as it's just me reposting it to FFN. So please don't leave reviews regarding my other works, because this isn't one of them. Thank you.)**

**Disclaimer: Neither bunnyscribe or I own Mob Psycho 100 or My Hero Academia**

**Train Your Body, Train Your Mind, but Above All Train Your Heart**

By bunnyscribe (AO3)

"Where were you last night brother?" is how Ritsu greets Mob in the morning.

"Studying," Mob answers, not looking up from where he's attempting to tie his shoes. "You don't need to worry, Ritsu, but thank you."

Ritsu is silent, unmoving from his spot in front of Mob's bedroom door. Mob doesn't look up, not wanting to look Ritsu directly in the eye after such a blatant lie.

His brother already has so much to worry about, between school council and the stresses his quirk puts on him. Mob can't bring himself to burden him any more than he has too. He's done enough of that already.

"What happened to your cheek?" Ritsu asks next.

Mob says nothing, bringing up a hand to thumb against the shallow mark.

The question lingers, unanswered. Ritsu shuffles his feet and the air conditioner hums in the background.

"If you don't want to talk to me, it's fine," Ritsu says. "But you know where I am, if you need to."

Mob looks up at him and is met with a tiny little smile that doesn't quite match his tone.

"I'll let you finish getting ready." Ritsu turns around, starting down the hallway.

"Ritsu," Mob says, and his brother stops short.

"Yeah?"

"...I confessed to Tsubomi-chan last night," Mob says.

"You did?" Ritsu asks, and Mob can hear the confusion in his tone. "Like romantically?"

It's then that Mob realizes he had never told Ritsu about his endeavors. Sure, his brother knew about the small things, like how he had joined the Body Improvement Club and had been studying with friends in order to his grades up. But somehow the overarching reason behind these attempts to better himself had slipped underneath the radar.

Mob starts to feel a little sick at the thought.

"Yeah," Mob says. He swallows his nausea and it cuts down his throat the way a knife wielded by a cult leader might. "She rejected me though."

Ritsu's eyes narrow in the way they always do when Mob asks him for help with a complicated question on his homework. It's a bit frightening to have the intensity of that look pointed directly at him and not at a piece of paper.

"Did she do that to your cheek?" Ritsu asks, crossing his arms and jerks his head in Mob's direction.

"What?" Mob asks. "Oh. Oh, no, that was something else."

"Something else," Ritsu repeats, an edge in his voice.

Mob nods, pauses, nods again. "It's fine."

Ritsu studies him, looking for something that Mob cannot guess at. The stern look on his face drops off after a moment, replaced with something far more pensive. "Right," he says. Then, "I'm sorry about Tsubomi."

"It's ok," Mob says, and is surprised to find that he means it for the most part. The wound is still fresh, but it doesn't sting as much as much as Mob thought it would.

Ritsu opens his mouth to say something but seems to think better of it as it snaps shut a moment later. His lips curls up into a familiar smile that Mob's only ever seen directed at himself. "Thank you for confiding in me brother, you should hurry though or else you'll be late for school."

"Oh, Ritsu," Mob says. "You don't have student council this morning do you?"

"No, why do you ask?"

"Do you want to walk together?"

Ritsu's face lights up. "I'd like that," he tells Mob earnestly.

Mob smiles back. Overall, it's a good morning.

.-.-.

The fact that Takenaka can partially read Mob's mind makes him an extremely valuable study partner.

They sit across from each other at the table in the Body Improvement club room, surrounded by a flurry of notes and exercise equipment. Takenaka points at one of the numbers on the page, circling it with his finger.

"Alright, so to solve the equation we have to move this over. No, it's not positive, it would be negative seven. We're subtracting. Got it? Nice. Now, the x is isolated except for the four, so we-Yeah, right. You're getting it, good job."

"These study sessions are the most I ever hear Takenaka speak," Inukawa says casually. He presses the buttons of his game console in a flurry of motion, only perfected by countless hours of practice. "It's kind of surreal."

"Shouldn't you be studying too Inukawa?" Takenaka asks pointedly, not looking up from their math homework. "The entrance exams for engineering schools are supposed to be really difficult."

Inukawa's face flushes. "I haven't told anyone about that yet! That's an invasion of privacy you know!"

Saruta glances up from his manga. "Eh, you want to be an engineer?"

Inukawa shuffles around in his seat, lowering his game console. "Yeah. It was a recommendation from one of my teachers because my math and science scores were pretty high. I like the idea of it though and it's pretty high paying too,so," he shrugs, "you know."

Mob looks up from the paper for the first time in a while, the colors of the world slightly distorted due to the bright white of it. "That's neat," he tells Inukawa. "What would you like to invent?"

Inukawa hums, rubbing the back of his neck. "I don't...I don't actually know yet? Probably something to help with quirk control since that's a pretty big business."

"Like hero gear?" Saruta asks.

Inukawa snorts, "Oh no, no, definitely not hero gear. The only school that certifies for that that's anywhere close to here is UA, and I'm definitely not getting in there no matter what I do. Nah, I'll probably just invent casual gear, like for the kids who can't control their quirks well or people who have chronic pain because of them."

Something about Inukawa's words strikes Mob oddly. He wonders if he can even get into UA if Inukawa, one of the smartest people he knows, doesn't believe he himself can. The realization of who he's sitting across from strikes him a split second too late. Takenaka's head pops up from the paper, eyes going wide.

"Mob?" he asks. "What was that about UA?"

_Twenty-six._

All eyes in the room focus on Mob. He goes flush, sweat starting to bead down his face at the unwanted attention. "I-I...I…"

He must think something else incriminating in his panic without realizing it because Takenaka's eyes narrow. "Mob," he says slowly. "What schools did you put down on your academic aspirations sheet?"

Mob's stomach churns, his subconscious desperately trying to smother an embarrassment he can't even explain why he has. "I...I wrote down-"

The door slams open before Mob can finish his answer.

"Mob-kun, I'd like to speak with you."

Mezato stands tall at the door, hands on her hips and camera swaying back and forth on her neck like a pendulum. She's holding a newspaper in her hand, the local paper from Musutafu, the city over. The sight of her rigid determination sends whatever relief Mob felt at the interruption immediately down the drain.

"Ah...newspaper girl…Mochi?" asks Inukawa.

Mezato's eyes narrow at him, she puffs out her chest. "My name is Mezato Ichi! Current lead reporter for the Salt Middle Newspaper, future investigative reporter for the biggest newspapers in Japan! I have an eye for big news and I am here-" She crosses over to them in two strides and slams down the newspaper down on the table. "-about this!"

_VILLAIN ATTACK STOPPED BY ALL MIGHT; MIDDLE SCHOOLERS SAVED, _reads the title in all capital letters. Below it is a picture of All Might, smiling towards the camera. Underneath that are two frontal shots of boys who look about the same age as Mob.

"You want to talk about All Might?" Mob asks her.

"Yes, exactl-Wait, what?" Mezato starts and then stops, looking at Mob her jaw going slack. "No! No, no, no! I'm talking about this!" She points at the portraits of the middle schoolers, her finger practically shaking with the effort she puts into the gesture. "These kids! They were involved in a villian attack, almost died, I think."

"Oh," Mob says. "Well I'm glad All Might made it in time."

"Yeah. Yeah, me too," Mezato says, brushing the statement aside with the swoop of her hand. "But, that's not important right now! What is important, Mob, is the page."

"The page?" Mob asks.

"She's trying to get across that it's a front page piece," Takenaka tells him. "Though," he gives Mezato a hard stare, "I don't understand how this pertains to you."

Mezato grins, like a predator that has it's eye on its next meal. "Mob-kun," she says, voice breathy with excitement. "I want to report on the incident from yesterday."

"No," Mob says immediately.

"...No?" Mezato asks. "Mob-kun...this could be a front page piece! This could...this could be your ticket into UA! Just think, you'd be unveiling yourself as a hero, unveiling your charismatic, selfless nature! They might let you in on recommendation if the piece gets big enough!"

"No," Mob says again. "Doing heroic acts for personal gain isn't right. If I get into UA, it'll be because of my own ability, not because I helped people that one time."

"Mob-kun, you saved a crowd of people from a villain!" Mezato continues, ignoring the confused protests of Inukawa and Saruta in the background. "That's not something small, that's a one time kind of event! And I could get you recognition for that. Don't you want that?"

"He said no," Takenaka says. "Stop trying to convince him otherwise for the sake of your dying newspaper."

Mezato glares at him, her expression strong enough to make Mob squirm in his seat. Takenaka holds steady though, meeting her gaze with zero apprehension.

Finally Mezato sighs, crossing her arms across her chest. "Alright, fine, I'll go." She doesn't move. "Mob-kun," she says.

Mob jolts to attention. "A-Ah...yes?"

"Here." A business card is shoved into his hands, depicting a smiling Mezato. _Call me with your news! _is writing in a goofy font on the back, attached to what appears to be a hotline number. "Call me if you ever change your mind."

Mezato leaves, but the tension in the room doesn't. Mob can feel everyone's eyes turn to him, their stares accusing. He fidgets in his seat, not looking up from his lap. A droplet of sweat drips into his eye, he doesn't move to swipe it away.

"What," Takenaka says, finally breaking the silence, "was that?"

"Did you actually save people from a villian Mob?" Inukawa asks. "Like, from a real life actual villain?"

"That can't be true, can it?" Saruta says.

Mob glances up, looks at them individually, and then immediately back down at his hands. They tremble slightly. "I...I...I…"

_Fifty one._

"Hey, Mob, look at me," Takenaka says, tone soft but commanding. It reminds Mob of Reigen in his more serious moments, and this correlation is probably the only thing that gets him to glance up.

"You're panicking," Takenaka says bluntly. "You need to calm down. Plus-" Here, he grimaces, a hand coming up to brush against his temple. "You're thinking so erratically that it's giving me a headache."

The pressure inside Mob spikes, but the realizations that he's hurting Takenaka, even indirectly, forces his subconscious to quickly attempt to smother it. His mind runs blank, like a film reel that reached the end of a movie.

"Is that better?" Mob asks.

Takenaka's frown deepens. "Yeah I guess." He glances back at Inukawa and Saruta, who are both just silently watching them. Inukawa's game console is slack in his hands. Takenaka rolls his eyes and looks back at Mob. "Look, it's alright. You don't have to talk about it if you don't want to, we're just concerned, that's all."

"Sorry," Mob says.

"No, I mean, ugh, you don't need to apologize." Takenaka rubs his temples, looking so stressed that Mob can't help but feel bad. "We're your friends, we want to know what's going on with you. Especially, if you're fighting villains in your spare time." He pauses. "Or going to UA."

"Ah, sorry," Mob says again. "I just didn't think it was important."

Inukawa sputters. "No-Not important!? Not important?! You're applying for the top school in the country and you think that's not important?"

"It's not that big a deal," Mob says.

"Uh, yeah it kinda is," Saruta says. "But, more importantly, did you actually take down a villian? Why would you do that? We're not even legally allowed to use our quirks."

"I didn't want to," Mob says. "He wouldn't let me call the police."

Takenaka stares at him, trying to work something out. "...Why wouldn't you tell us about it?"

"I didn't want to bore you."

Apparently, this was the wrong thing for Mob to say, as the others groan. Inukawa buries his face in his hands, and Takenaka gives him the same look Ritsu does when Mob does something especially oblivious.

"Mob, heroes train for years to be able to take down villains effectively," Takenaka says. "Some pros still have to hone their abilities because even they can't fight well. And you're saying that you, a middle schooler with zero official training, taking down a villian makes for a boring story?"

"But I do have training," Mob says, a bit confused. "I work out with the Body Improvement Club almost everyday. Plus, my master teaches me a lot about hero work."

"Yeah, yeah, your hero master, you've told us," Inukawa says. "But that still doesn't change that you took a villian down by yourself. Your master wasn't there with you, was he?"

"And even if he was, he probably couldn't do anything," Saurta mutters.

"That's not true. Master is really good at self defense," Mob says, immediately jumping to Reigen's defense. "He could've handled it."

Takenaka waves his hand, cutting off the conversation. "Alright, forget your master for a second," he says. "Do you think you can handle going into UA?"

Mob feels his chest tighten, his doubts about his ability creeping back up at the question. "I don't…" he says, "I don't know?"

Takenaka's frown deepens. "Don't take it that way," he says, mostly likely picking up on what Mob was thinking. "I didn't mean it like that. You wouldn't fail, you'd definitely get in, it's just…" He pauses here, squinting at Mob. "The other people going into UA, they're going to be…competitive. And you're just…"

"Kind of a pushover," Inukawa says.

"Not cutthroat in the slightest," chimes in Saurta.

Takenaka spins around to glare at them, and slowly turns back to Mob, his expression going soft. "I was gonna say too nice," he says.

Mob glances at each of them. "I don't understand."

"All those kids are going to be aiming for the top," Takenaka says. "UA's a hard school to get in for a reason, and the people in there are probably going to be really ambitious."

"Some of them will probably be even aiming to surpass All Might someday," Inukawa says.

"But no one can surpass All Might," Mob says.

"Yeah, but they'll probably be aiming to."

"That's besides the point," Takenaka says, his voice distracted. He's eyeing Mob, face pinched up in concern. "Haven't you watched the sports festivals? Those in the hero course always wind up beating the shit out of each other at the end. Could you really do that? Could you hurt someone for some else's entertainment?"

Mob frowns, his brow furrowing as he turns the statement over in his mind. "I think…" He pauses. "...I think…"

"You don't have to answer that now," Takenaka says, putting a hand on Mob's shoulder. He looks Mob dead in the eye, gaze piercing. "Just think about it."

.-.-.

On one of the free days for the Body Improvement Club, Mob runs farther than he ever has before.

Time slips away until he's running down roads that have no semblance of familiarity, buildings becoming more and more spread apart with every step he takes until finally they disappear all together. His breath is shallow and shaky, his legs burn and feel a little fuzzy, but it says something to his increased stamina that he doesn't stop or pass out.

He starts to run past a beach so covered in trash that he can't even see the ocean. The rusted metal and broken glass glitters against the sunset, so bright it almost blinds him from his peripherals. He makes a mental note to talk to his master about it later. They've cleaned up garbage together before, not quite on this scale, but Mob thinks it's a real pity no one is getting to enjoy the beach.

It's a disgruntled screech that emerges from the mounds of trash that makes Mob pause.

He waits, hears nothing else, and waits a little bit longer. The silence dregs up the worst parts of his imagination until, without thinking about it, he begins carefully picking through the piles of trash. He carefully steps around glass shards and sharp tin cans embedded in the sand, knowing he'll be no good to whoever's out there if he gets hurt as well.

"-fraid I've used up all my time for today," a voice says as Mob maneuvers around a car with no wheels that's covered in thick, brown rust. "Are you sure you can't lift it?"

A tuft of fluffy green hair pokes out from underneath a fridge, the body attached to it shaking with the effort to keep prop it up. A rope runs around the fridge, connecting it to person underneath it. The head lifts, revealing a boy's face, covered in freckles and sweat. His breath shakes out of him. "N-no...I've got it...I can-"

Three things happen almost simultaneously. The boy's muscles give out on him, there's a blur from where the other voice came from, and Mob finds himself lifting his hand up before he can think any more about it.

The boy lands on flat his stomach, his shoulders tense as he braces from an impact that never hits. He strains with the effort to pick his head back up looks back, his entire body quaking. He looks surprised at the fridge, now standing straight up a few feet away from him. "D-Did, did I do that?" he mumbles, looking towards the other voice. "Was that me?"

"You should really take a break now," Mob tells him, and the boys head swevers to face him so quickly that Mob would be surprised if he didn't hurt his neck on top of all the physical fatigue. "You look bad."

"That was you?" the boy asks, pushing himself unsteadily to his feet. He stumbles, almost going back down. Mob starts to lift his hand again, but the boy steadies himself. "Was that your quirk? I mean, thank you, if that was you, but was it?"

"Ah, um," Mob says. "Yes."

The way the boy looks at Mob immediately reminds him of Mezato, intense and driven in a way Mob can't completely wrap his head around.

"What's your quirk?" the boy says, his voice raspy from exhaustion.

"...Telekinesis," Mob says.

"So you moved the fridge with your mind then? That's amazing! I've read about telekinesis as a quirk before, but I've known anyone who had it. It's rarer, isn't it? At least classic telekinesis is. It was mostly found in the first generation of quirks, but its mutated as it's been passed down. From what I've read it usually it becomes a different quirk altogether or there's some special conditions surrounding its usage. Is your quirk like that? What's the weight limit of objects you can lift? How many objects can lift, just one? Or could you pick up a whole room if you wanted to? Wait, wait. I think I have my notebook in my bookbag, it's around here somewhere. Let me write this down…"

After that impressive and overwhelming amount of babble, only interrupted by the occasional sharp breath, the boy turns, mostly likely to try and stumble somewhere else. He starts tilting over immediately, about to hit the ground before he can take his first step.

Mob takes a break from trying to comprehend everything that's been said to him in order to shoot his arm out, grabbing the boy and steading him.

"Midoriya, my boy," the other voice, a tall, blonde man, says with a chuckle. He walks over to them both, a bit of smoke hazing around his form. He puts a hand on the boy's head and ruffling his hair. "Relax." The man turns to Mob, "Thank you for your help, young man. I'm very thankful you showed up when you did."

Mob has the very sudden thought that this man needs to eat more.

The boy immediately gets flustered, his cheeks flushing. "Ah, I'm sorry!" He bows his head towards Mob. "Thank you so much for your help!"

"It's fine," Mob says, only half paying attention.

The boy looks familiar in a way that Mob can't quite place. He zones out, trying to put a memory to the face. He thinks of Mezato, smacking down the newspaper on the table, and it hits him.

"Ahh," Mob says, smacking his palm with a fist. "You're the guy who got rescued by All Might during the slime attack."

Both the other boy and the man tense up. Mob realizes he had interrupted something the boy was saying, his mouth half opened around a syllable.

"...Y-yeah, that's me!" the boy practically squeaks.

Mob hums, pausing for a moment to remember more about the article. "You ran in to help the other kid, right?" he asks. "That was very brave of you."

The boy flushes, looking torn between beaming at the praise and embarrassment at getting recognized. "Thank you."

Mob nods.

The silence that proceeds is taught. The tall man just looks vaguely uncomfortable and tense, The boy looks off to the side, wringing his hands together. Mob has the feeling he stepped into something he wasn't supposed to.

"Sorry," Mob says finally. "I interrupted you. What were you saying?"

The boy startles. "O-Oh! Sorry!" He brings up a hand and rubs the back of his neck, fidgeting in place. Mob can still see the slight shaking in his legs with the effort it's taking to stand up. "I was just introducing myself!" The boy grins and sticks out his hand towards Mob. "My name is Midoriya Izuku! What's your name?"

Mob stares at the hand, processing for a moment. The boy's, Midoriya's, combination of enthusiasm and nerves reminds him of his master. The flourishing movements, the expressive body language. Like with his master, it makes him a bit easier to understand than other people, but also a little bit harder to keep up with.

Midoriya's smile wavers the longer he holds his hand out. It's only when he starts to retract it that Mob reaches out and takes a hold of it.

"Mob," he says.

Midoriya glance to their hands, to Mob's face. "Wh-What?" he asks. The man behind the splutters with something between a laugh and a cough.

"Mob" he says again, dropping his hand back to his side. "My name."

"Oh, is that…? Is that your actual name?" Midoriya asks, his hand stuck in the air like it's frozen there.

"No," Mob says. "It's what my master and my friends calls me."

"Oh." Midoriya's hand slowly drops to his side, his eyes sliding over to the one part of the ocean that's visible from their vantage point. Mob can almost see the gears turning in his head, rapidly spinning in a way that strikes Mob as natural. Midoriya jolts a second later, his movements turning frantic as he turns back to Mob. "Sorry, sorry! I didn't mean to offend you."

Mob tilts his head to the side, "You didn't offend me." He glances around at all the trash, tuning out whatever apologies Midoriya gives next in order to take in old cabinets with missing doors and a TV with a broken screen sitting precariously on top of a mound of trash. "What are you doing here?"

"Oh, I'm just cleaning up the beach as part of my training with All M-" the tall man starts hacking loudly, "-UH, I mean! My, uh, mentor!"

Mob nods slowly, and looks over Midoriya's shoulder towards the man. "Are you alright sir?"

"Fine, fine!" the tall man says, waving it off. "A bad cold is all."

Mob nods reluctantly, not fully believing the statement. He glances at Midoriya's shaking knees to a little droplet of blood dripping down the man's chin.

"You really shouldn't push yourself," Mob says. "My master says that's the quickest way to work yourself into an early grave."

The tall man gives a wet chuckle, something glittering in the depths of his sunken in eyes as if Mob just said something extremely funny. "I'll keep that in mind."

"Ok," Mob says, "I'm glad." He glances around again. "...Do you want some help?"

"With moving the trash?" Midoriya asks, looking unsure. He glances back at the tall man, who hesitates and nods. "Are you sure?" Midoriya asks, treading lightly as he turned back to Mob. "Do you have somewhere to be?"

"No," Mob says. "I have to be home for dinner, or else my mom gets worried, but that's not until later. And I don't think I have time to make it back to club anyway."

Midoriya hesitates for a second longer, biting his lip and looking conflicted. "I don't-" His trembling knees finally give out, almost sending him to the ground once more. His shock makes way for amusement, a bright grin on his face as he steadies himself with his arms. "-ok, alright, I guess some help would be nice."

**To be continued…**

**It's been so long!**

**A lot has happened in the last few months, a lot of change. I moved out, entered my sophomore year of college, even wound up in the hospital at one point. Don't worry, I'm doing a lot better now! **

**Despite everything though, I still really love this fic. I think about ideas for it all the time and have been wanting to work on it for so long. That being said, I do want to get updates out to you guys a bit faster, so I think I'm gonna go with slightly shorter updates, probably aim for two to three thousand words and about three "scenes" per update.**

**I really appreciate you guys' patience, and I hope you really enjoy my fic! Next chapter, more Mob and Midoriya friendship and the entrance exams!**


	3. Victory is in the Journey

**disclaimer: neither I or bunnyscribe own MHA or Mob Psycho 100**

**Victory is in the Journey**

By: bunnyscribe (AO3)

Mob politely insists that Izuku take a break, which he resists until All Might finally agrees. He winds up sitting on the sidelines for most of an hour, perched on an old dresser. He gulps down four water bottles in a relatively short amount of time and is left with a nauseous feeling, churning in his stomach. Despite the discomfort, he keeps fidgeting, antsy to move and start training again. It's been awhile since he took a break like this and he can't say he likes it much.

Mob meanwhile, has been helping move the trash. He gets such an impressive amount done in a relatively short amount of time that Izuku can't help but be a bit jealous. But, he notes, Mob seems to be in even better shape than he is now, even after a few months on the American Dream plan. Sometimes he'll stand over the heavier objects for a minute or two, staring at them intently, before putting up a hesitant hand and moving it with the help of his quirk. But, he primarily seems to be focused on picking things up with his own strength.

Izuku desperately wants to help him, if only for the chance to interview Mob about his quirk and all the uses it has. He can feel All Might side eyeing him though, and knows if he gets up, his mentor will only scold him and have him sit down again. So, instead, Izuku takes the time instead to jot down notes. Slowly but surely, he inserts Mob into his hero analysis book as the first entry to not be a pro-hero.

A little doodle of the boy sits on the left side of a page, where he's standing in his gym uniform. Little arrows point to his face and his arms, marked with notes reading expressionless and lean muscles respectively. The right side is filled with little scribbled notes, briefly describing his telekinetic quirk. Even from a distance, Izuku can tell the amount of power behind it seems to fluctuate, if only slightly, ebbing and flowing like a wave. He can't help but wonder if it's some kind conditional thing that surrounds his quirk like some kind of limit to the strength behind it.

He doesn't realize he's mumbling until All Might comes over and clasps him on the shoulder. "Young Midoriya, you're going to make your voice go hoarse one of these days," he says with a weak laugh.

Izuku startles, his hand jolts sending the pen across the page. "O-Oh! All Might!" He looks down at the scribbled line that now slashes across the paper, cutting through some of his notes, and then up at All Might. "Sorry, I was just…just trying to figure out how Mob's quirk worked."

"There is no reason to apologize my boy. It's quite an endearing trait of yours, let's me get to see your mind at work." All Might taps the side of his head with his pointer finger, grinning as Izuku flushes. Before Izuku can get too rattled, already able to feel an embarrassing amount of words piling up in his throat, All Might looks up. His expression morphs into contemplation, his sunken face dropping into a frown. "He is a very strange boy, isn't he?"

Izuku glances over to where All Might's looking and finds Mob, who currently has two tires hefted on each shoulder. He moves like they're weightless, carrying them over to the dumpster across the way. "Yeah," Izuku says. "He seems a little...awkward? No, oblivious maybe? No, that's not the right word. I don't know, I don't know how to describe him."

"No, I think I know what you mean," All Might says. "He seems perceptive, but lacks the conscious thought to back it up." He brings a hand up to his chin and then glances back to Izuku. "Perhaps we should work a bit more on a story behind why I am training you, besides you being my successor. Someone more aware would probably have been suspicious had we acted the way we did when you were recognized."

"Yeah, no, I was thinking that too," Izuku says, bringing his hand to his chin and unconsciously mirroring All Might's gesture. "Maybe we can say you were an old boxing coach?" he suggests. "And you're retired now because of your injury, but you took on one more student!"

All Might sputters, a spray of blood flying through the air with the choked out laugh. "A boxing coach? What are you on about?"

"You know, because of your punches!" Izuku says, balling up a fist and rocking it back and forth to emphasize his point. His voice drops into a hushed tone, the one he uses when he's thinking out loud. "Plus, it's enough of the truth that people won't ask a ton of questions. They always say the best lies have a bit of truth in them."

All Might snort interrupts his train of thought. "I d-"

"Um, excuse me."

Whatever All Might was about to say is cut off, both his and Izuku's heads jerking up. Mob stands in front of them, head tilted. At first glance, Izuku thinks Mob hasn't been affected by all the physical labor he's been doing. His hands lay lax at his sides and he appears to hold no tension from straining his muscles.

However, taking a second look, it's clear to see the sheen of sweat on Mob's forehead. He sways a little and his breaths are quiet but raspy as if he's trying to politely mask his exhaustion. Izuku wonders if it's something he's consciously thinking of or if it's just a natural part of who he is.

"I need to go home soon," Mob says. "My family will start to worry if it gets too late."

All Might nods, slapping his hands on his knees and pushing himself up. "I suppose it is getting quite late, isn't it? Midoriya, my boy, you should probably head home as well. You don't want your mother to worry."

"Ahh, wait!" Izuku shoots up, frantically waving his hands at Mob. "I still have so many questions I haven't got to ask you yet!"

Mob tilts his head, "About what?"

"About your quirk!"

"Oh," Mob says. He shuffles his feet, hunching a bit more into himself. "It's not very interesting."

"What?" Izuku says, feeling his voice raise an octave or two. "What's not interesting about a quirk that lets you pick up stuff with your mind?"

Mob stares at him blankly. "It's not a very useful quirk so I don't like to rely on it too much." Izuku tried to interject, tries to tell him how extremely useful it is, but the next thing Mob says stops him in his tracks.

"Besides," he says, "quirks aren't everything. It's still possible to help others without using one."

Izuku swallows, thinking of his own quirkless status. "Y-Yeah," he says, "I guess you're right." He can feel All Might's piercing gaze on the back of his neck. "But still, I'd like to know more if you're willing to tell me. I know that you have to leave, but do you have a phone or anything so we can keep in contact?"

Mob pauses, reaches into his pocket, and pulls out a flip phone covered in red, white, and blue, yellow stripes running across it.

Izuku stares, stunned. "Oh my god," he says, breathy. "Is th-that...Is that the first All Might themed phone? From right around his debut?"

Mob looks down at the phone, confusion in his eyes. "I don't know," he says. "My master gave it to me for work."

"Ma-May I…" Izuku reaches out with trembling fingers. "May I see it?" he asks, voice small.

All Might snorts.

"Sure," Mob says, and passes the phone over to him.

Izuku turns it over in his hands, looking at it from all angles. He can feel his inner fanboy squealing to the high heavens, as he holds a piece of merch that's older than himself. He flips it open, admiring the stars on all the buttons. He presses a couple, pulling up the contact list. There's only a single number saved, under the name 'Reigen'.

Midoriya adds himself and reluctantly gives Mob back the phone. "Thank you," he says.

"No problem," Mob says, "It's just a phone." He looks over at the water, the sun starting to dip below the horizon and hums. "I think I'm going to go now," he says, looking back at Izuku and All Might. "It was nice to meet both of you."

"The same to you, young man," All Might says, grinning. "Hopefully, we'll see more of you in the future. We wouldn't mind your help again in the future!"

"Hopefully," Mob says, "I had fun today." Though the blankness of his face doesn't show if he actually means the sentiment. He starts to walk away and then pauses, seeming to realize something. He turns back around, gives a small wave, and then disappears behind the rather impressive amount of garbage left.

"What a strange boy…" All Might says, bringing a hand to his chin.

Izuku nods in agreement, staring at the spot of the beach that Mob completely cleared of debris.

.-.-.

Mob winds up meeting Reigen early the morning of the exam, his master taking him out for breakfast at a small restaurant right up the road from his office.

It's a bit dingy in the way that most of Spice City is. There are cracks in the ceiling that sometimes leak when it rains, the tables, chairs, and even the plates are a mismatch of shapes and styles, and the waiters are dressed very casually in ripped up jeans and tee-shirts covered by stained aprons.

The food comes out quickly though and the waiters are very friendly, and so they quickly became regulars here, often dropping by after work.

"H'eat hup Mob!" Reigen says around a mouth full of food. He swallows and jabs his fork repeatedly towards Mob's plate. "You're gonna need your strength to get through today. Big exams don't exactly pass themselves, ya'know?"

Mob snaps out of his thoughts, looking up from his lap to his plate. He takes a small bite of his rice and fried egg.

Reigen frowns at him, putting his fork down. "What's are you thinking about?" he asks. "Cause with that expression, it doesn't look like anything good."

Mob hesitates. He takes another bite of his food to put off answering, but Reigen's watching him intently, waiting for an answer and Mob knows his master well enough that he's not going to get away without giving one. He puts his fork down.

"Master, am I cutthroat at all?" he asks.

Reigen blinks. "Where did that come from?"

"Takenaka-kun said people at U.A. are going to be very competitive and aiming for the top. I don't know if I can do that."

"Mob," Reigen says, voice serious. "If the people there are only aiming for the top and not more concerned with helping others, then they're people you shouldn't concern yourself with." He takes a large sip of his soda, slurping it through the straw. "Besides, even if you're not competitive in the slightest, you've got other things going for you."

"Like what?" Mob asks.

Reigen pauses, bringing a finger up to the side of his face and looking thoughtful. He jolts in realization, his finger pointing skyward. "You've got charm."

"Charm?"

"Yeah, exactly! Charm," Reigen says, his gestures grow more confident. His hand movements are wild but fluid, pointing and swaying in different directions to emphasize his point. "Charm that you earned, remember? You work hard at the agency, you work hard at school, you work hard at everything you do. And if people can't see that in you, then they're just not looking hard enough at you to notice."

"I've got charm," Mob mummers, bring a hand up to his face. There's a little pop in the air, a tiny electric zap of telekinetic energy. The bowls on the table rattle and the forks levitate upwards. It only lasts for a split second before they drop, leaving behind only a warm glow.

Reigen grins, looking relieved. "That's right," he says. He shoves his fork towards Mob's plate again. "Now eat up, we've gotta hurry so you're not late!"

This time, Mob complies, shoveling his food down as quickly as he can.

Reigen covers the bill by barely paying anything. He whips out a tiny little organizer and pulls out several coupons that the staff had given him as rewards for his loyalty, reducing the bill to almost nothing. He looks a bit smug about it, but Mob sees him slip a little bit of yen to the waitress before they leave.

They walk together in near silence to the nearest Spice City train station. Mob stares straight ahead, his mind on a single track to get to the exam, his subconsciousness attempt to smother down his nervousness. Reigen opens his mouth to speak quite a few times, but every time he looks over at Mob, purses his lips, and says nothing.

_Fifty-two._

It's only when he's seeing Mob off that Reigen speaks again. "Don't be afraid of your quirk, Mob," he says. He slings an arm of Mob's shoulder and grins down at him. "It's a part of you like any other, use it like you need to pass the exam. This is your master giving you permission."

Mob pauses, his body tensing only momentarily. A flash reaction that's gone almost immediately. After a moment of hesitation, he nods. "I will," he says quietly.

Reigen grin softens into a smile, his face gentler and calmer than Mob's seen in a while. He pats Mob's shoulder before letting go. "I know you will. Make me proud, Mob. Now go!" He quickly switches back into that explosive energy, ushering and pushing Mob on to the train. "Don't be late!"

The doors close behind Mob with a hiss that reminds him of elevators. The train begins moving down the tracks and he watches out the window until the waving figure of Reigen disappears behind a mass of people.

_Fifty-three._

.-.-.

Izuku comes to find out U.A. is even fancier on the inside than it is on the outside.

He's herded into a large auditorium with hundreds of U.A. hopefuls, attendants beginning to pass out cards for the seating arrangements. As he waits for his name to be called, he stares up at the ornate designs carved into the high ceilings, trying to figure out how they got there.

All the while, he can feel power humming inside of him, can almost hear it. It's odd and foreign, definitely not fully integrated into his system, but the bright warmth of it makes him sure it's the power of One for All. It's enough to make him giddy, even on top of all of his nerves.

Plus, he talked to a _girl_. A real-life girl, who caught him when he fell and wished him good luck on his exam. She was sweet and she had a nice smile, and he _actually_ talked to her.

It feels like nothing can take him down now.

At least that's what he believes until he sees Kacchan sitting in the seat next to his assigned one.

Izuku feels himself hunch, a reflexive movement to make himself as small as possible. His hesitation to sit down cost him, the pause long enough to draw Kacchan's attention to him. Kacchan glare is fierce enough to send a shiver down Izuku's spine, but Kacchan quickly goes back to pointedly ignoring him.

"Oh," a small, monotone voice suddenly says behind Izuku. "It's you."

Izuku turns and is met with the sight of a boy with a bowl cut, his school uniform entirely black with yellow buttons running all the way down the jacket. It takes a moment to place who it is, but when Izuku does, his jaw drops in surprise. "Mob?"

After that day on the beach, Izuku and Mob had been keeping in on and off contact with each other. They hadn't met in person, Izuku had been too busy with his training and Mob had said he was busy with work. However they had occasionally texted and from those conversations they had, Izuku gathered little bits of information on Mob's life. He had a brother, he exercised almost daily with the Body Improvement club at his school, and he worked a part-time job on the side. Izuku had asked about his quirk as well but only had received vague and rather dry answers.

But still, Izuku had enjoyed talking to him. It had almost been like having a friend if only a long distance one.

"What are you doing here?" Izuku asks, voice a slightly higher octave than normal. He can feel Kacchan's eyes on his back.

"Taking the entrance exam," Mob says, tilting his head. "Isn't that what you're doing?"

Izuku snorts. "No, no, I mean," he gestures towards the crowd, "I didn't know you were applying here."

"Oh, yeah, my Master said I should," Mob says, glancing down at the crowd of people sitting in front of them. He's as blank-faced as Izuku remembers during their first encounter, his thoughts entirely unreadable. He looks back at Izuku. "I didn't know you were applying here too though," he says, "Is that what all your training was for?"

"Ye-Yeah," Izuku says, rubbing the back of his neck. "Hopefully it pays off. I-I mean, I just really want to get in."

"I think you will," Mob says and pauses, staring at Izuku as if he could see inside of him. He gives a little nod a second later as if reconfirming his point in his head. "You will. You've worked hard for this."

Izuku grins, the sure tone of his voice filling him with a warm comparable to One For All. "Thanks," he says, his voice barely a whisper. "That means a lot."

Mob opens his mouth to say something else but doesn't have time before the lights dim down and everybody's scrambling to get into their seats. Izuku almost falls on the floor in an attempt to get into his, pulling the chair out to far and then going to sit down too quickly. He catches himself well enough, but not before hearing a tiny laugh to his left. However, when Izuku looks up, he finds Mob as stone-faced as ever.

After some loud yelling, Present Mic (the actual real life Present Mic, in person!) explains the rules of the exam. It's rather simple in all honesty, destroy all the robots you can and avoid the one pointers.

Izuku has mixed feelings about the arena he's been assigned. On one hand, he's not with Kacchan which he's secretly grateful for. But on the other, he's not with Mob and that's disappointing because it would've been nice to know someone. The more he thinks about it though, it might be a blessing in disguise. He knows Mob is extremely strong physically and has what seems to be a rather powerful quirk on top of it. There's no telling how many robots would be left for Izuku after he was finished with them.

While Present Mic continues to explain, Izuku can feel Kacchan's eyes burning holes into him. If Izuku knows him, he's probably wondering about Mob or he overheard the bit about training and is trying to figure that out.

Kacchan might be hot-headed, but he's not stupid.

The speech on how the exam will go goes pretty smoothly, though at one point Izuku gets scolded by a rather stern student for his mumbling. The attendants start to guide people out afterward, calling for certain groups to take them to their respective testing grounds.

"Good luck," is all Mob tells Izuku before he disappears into the crowd.

Kacchan just glares, sauntering off to join his group. Izuku can feel the silent promise that he will be demanding details later but tries to brush it off. It's not like he can do anything about Kacchan right now. Besides, the thought of failure is way less terrifying than the thought of anything Kacchan can do to him after this.

Izuku can see the attendant calling for his group, but takes a second to steal his nerves before he goes. He closes his eyes, feeling as One for All thrums beneath his skin like it's pumping through his blood. He can feel it in his muscles, in his chest. It's a tool he can use to pass this exam, to enter into U.A., to achieve his dreams.

Now it's just about using it correctly.

.-.-.

Toshinori watches his pupil on the monitor, scrambling around as his peers decimate robot after robot. He clenches his fist into white knuckles, his nails leaving tiny crescents in his skin. It's almost enough to hurt in this skeletal form of his, which would be embarrassing if he wasn't so focused.

"Come on my boy," he whispers, tracking that tuff of green hair towards another screen.

He knows that Young Midoriya will pass, not because he has a hand in it, but through his own power. The boy is far too determined to do otherwise, but that doesn't mean it's not still absolutely nerve-racking to watch.

Out of the corner of his eye, Toshinori watches as the button to release the zero pointers is pressed.

Things happen in quick succession on after that. It's hard to keep straight as the action spans across multiple screens. A girl trapped on the ground. A boy flying through the air, his broken legs flapping behind them. A hand trailing purple as it raises up.

And then, on two separate screens, almost simultaneously, the judges watch slack-jawed as two zero point robots fall. The event is unprecedented. It's been years since even one giant robot was taken down, but two in a single exam is unheard of in all of U.A.'s history. They crumble like green skyscrapers, giant chunks of them crashing into the ground and leaving ginormous craters behind.

Toshinori grins. The spirit of self-sacrifice indeed. Looks like this year's class is going to be an interesting one after all.

**To be continued...**


	4. The True Meaning of Heroics

The True Meaning of Heroics!

By: bunnyscribe (AO3)

The two point robot goes down with a creak, smashing into the ground. It sends thousands shards of broken machinery flying outwards, the pieces tapping against the glass windows of the already crumbling building next to it.

_Seventy percent._

Mob cautiously steps over the carnage, already lifting a hand to push at the next one pointer in front of him. It's almost too easy to destroy the bots, just a simple nudge with his quirk sends them straight down to the ground and their fragile bodies crumble against it.

He feels a little bad wrecking them though, they look very expensive. Every time one of them goes down and snaps in two, Mob thinks of his own school and it's outdated textbooks with ripped pages and cracked spines. He wonders how many new books even one of these robots could buy. The thought certainly doesn't help his growing nerves as the timer ticks down.

He walks around the arena, a stark contrast to all the other potential students who move in a frenzied hurry. All of them are clamoring for points and it shows, each one using their quirks in vastly different ways in order to subdue the robots. Sometimes Mob lifts his hand to find a robot already in bits, scorched, or covered in a sticky tape.

The next robot Mob comes across is a two pointer, racing towards him with weapons at the ready. He starts to raise up his hand, when a series of explosions erupts towards his left.

The blond boy who was sitting next to Midoriya comes rocketing in, propelled by the explosions from his hands. At the last second before he crashes into the robot, he throws his hands in front of him, hitting the bot with a well timed blast.

Smoke floods Mob's vision, dropping his visibility to near zero. The thickness of it makes him cough and he brings a hand to his mouth to cover it.

Luckily, it clears rather quickly; leaving only him, the boy standing a crossed from him, and the chard husk of a robot that's still trying to squirm on its last bit of power.

The blond from before sneers at Mob, looking him up and down as though sizing him up. "Stay out of my way," he finally snaps, apparently coming to a conclusion. And then he's off again, soaring through the sky with a trail of bright red blasts and smoke following him.

Mob blinks and stares after him, trying to process what just happened. He doesn't get long though, a one point robot rounding the corner of one of the buildings. He lifts his hand, only to be interrupted again by a string of tape that shoots out from nowhere, wrapping itself around the robot.

"Sorry!" a black haired boy calls out to him as he starts to swing by, that same sticky tape stringing out from his elbows.

"One minute left!" Present Mic's voice erupts at the same time from the speakers, as loud and exuberant as it is in person.

_Seventy nine percent._

Mob feels a sudden onslaught of cold throughout him at the words, his eyes still tracking the boy swinging through the air. He forgot to keep track of his points, he thinks, he has no idea of his score. What if he fails this? What will he say to his master then? What would he say to Midoriya? The emotional vacuum inside him churns, the feelings to much to store entirely away, to try to convert them into something useable.

It's at that moment that all hell breaks loose.

A green mountain of a robot emerges from the ground, the concrete crunching as it rises up to a towering height. The groan it emits echoes through the alleys of the constructed city. Mob watches panicked students appear from around it, rushing past him to avoid any injuries from a robot that's worth nothing to them. Mob raises a hand, catching all the rocks that come at him and the escaping students, gently brushing them out of the way with his quirk.

_This is dangerous, _Mob thinks, _someone's going to get hurt._

And, as if fulfilling a prophecy, a giant chunk of stone drops from the sky, hitting the boy swinging away from it his tape. Mob sees it rip, watches as the boy plummets to the ground head first, sees the stone following right behind him.

Mob acts without thinking, arm lifting and enveloping both the boy and the stone in a kaleidoscope of color. He gently placed them down, a distance away from the bot. The boy doesn't get up.

The robot takes a step, the ground breaking under the weight of its giant feet. It groans again with the movement. The bright reds of its eyes seeming to barely register where it's going as it clips the side of a building, sending another rain of debris down.

It's heading right towards the boy again, Mob realizes with a jolt as it moves past him. And once it reaches the boy, who knows what other students are lying beyond the wait, injured or trapped under chunks of rock he didn't catch.

_Eighty two percent._

It's only Mob who can stop it now. The rest of abled bodies students are gone. Only Mob can help now, and that just doesn't seem fair, but it's all he can do now.

He focuses on the robot's center, testing it with a push of his telekinetic energy. It stops in its tracks, it's chest creaking. The head turns in different directions, as if trying to find the source of the power.

And then, with a slightly stronger push, Mob puts a clean, circular hole straight through it. It crumbs like a tower of building blocks, falling backwards. Gears and sparking wires fall out of the hole, hitting the ground like shining comets. Mob watches it collapse, groaning and creaking the entire way down.

"Time's up!" Present Mic sudden shout erupts over the speakers, barely audible over the chunks of huge machinery embedding themselves in the earth. "The exam is over!"

The robot finally finishes falling apart, the head landing last and cracking directly in half. The resulting crash reminds Mob of the boy's descent and he turns to check on him, finding him woozily attempting to sit up.

"Hey," Mob calls as he rushes over. "Try not to move too much, you've been injured."

The boy picks up his head and Mob can see the trail of blood leaking down from his scalp, catching on his eyebrow. One of his eyes is completely shut, the other squinting against the harsh light of the sun, reflecting off the buildings and machinery around them. "Wh-What?"

Mob kneels down next to him, trying to recall his master's first aid training for head wounds. He hesitates before ripping off some of the bottom of his gym shirt to press again the wound. It's as not sterile as his master probably would have liked, slightly damp with sweat from all the walking Mob's done in the heat, but the bleeding takes precedent Mob thinks.

The boy winces when the cloth brushes the wound, hissing. "Oh, ow, that hurts," he says, voice sluggish.

"You're not swelling or bleeding from anywhere else, so it doesn't seem like your skull is fractured," Mob says. "It also looks like the wound is pretty shallow. You're very lucky."

The boy just looks at Mob, his eyes squinting and brows furrowed together. Without even looking too closely, Mob can tell one pupil is bigger than the other. A concussion then.

"What's your name?" Mob asks.

The boy blinks slowly. "Sero Hanta."

Mob nods, moving the cloth away from the wound and finds that it hasn't quite stopped bleeding. He puts it back. "You have a very neat quirk."

"Hey, thanks," Sero says after a moment, a small painful looking grin appearing on his face. "You do to from what I've seen in between running around this place!" His expression changes into something Mob can't place and he slowly glances over Mob's shoulder, face suddenly going slack. "What happened there?"

Mob turns to see what he's looking and finds the robotic remains of the zero point robot. "Oh," he says, "It was coming towards you. I was scared it might crush you under its feet, so I stopped it."

Sero gapes at him.

"It's not a big deal," Mob says, feeling a bit embarrassed at the dumbstruck expression on Sero's face. "Why did you want to come to U.A.?" he asks, attempting to change the subject.

They talk for a little bit longer. Mob tries to keep asking questions to keep Sero from nodding off. He doesn't think he's very good at coming up with interesting material, but Sero seems out of it enough for it to matter much.

A couple robots soon appear, carrying a stretcher and chanting that they're medical bots. The idea of sending the injured boy away again with robots so soon after fighting so many makes Mob feel a bit queasy, but they seem to know where they're going. Mob helps them lift Sero onto the it, the canvas dipping with his weight.

"See you in school," Mob says.

Sero grins and throws him a thumbs up. "Hey, you too!" he says, before the medical bots take him away.

.-.-.

The door itself is nothing remarkable, a solid wood found throughout the rest of the house. The window in the hallway casts it in a soft warm glow, illuminating it just enough that Ritsu can see a small indent from an incident when Mob was demonstrating his quirk by tossing around Ritsu's alphabet blocks.

The letter and reason behind Ritsu's hesitation crinkles as he clutches his hand into a fist. He brings it up, tries to look at again only to find that the sender still hasn't changed.

His brother's behavior as of the last few weeks has been suspicious at best. Disappearing until odd hours, spending more time texting on his phone, going to that fraud's agency even more often than usual. It all boiled to a head when Mob left a few days ago, saying he was going to take a high school exam and came back around three hours later with visible signs of exhaustion.

Ritsu hadn't been able to pin down a cause to the behavior, though he knew it had something to do with Reigen. The man always seemed to putting ridiculous ideas in his brother's head with his fake brand of heroics and wonky moral compass.

It didn't help that his brother was also ridiculously tight lipped about the entire matter. Any questions about where Mob had been or what he had been up to were met with a wave of the hand and a request not to worry about it.

If anything, the longer he went without answers, the more worried Ritsu got. He could feel the stress buzzing around inside of him even now, a staticy feeling of pure energy that put him constantly on edge. It was getting to the point where his classmates could tell something was off with him and went out of their way to give him a wide berth. Tokugawa-sensei had even pulled him aside after the student council meeting to tell him that he either needed to deal with the source of his stress before the impending explosion or at least take a couple days off to relax.

Ritsu takes a deep breath, steeling himself to deal with the source that lays right behind this door. He lifts his hand to knock at the same time the door opens.

"Oh, Ritsu," Mob says. He glances up and down the hallway, as if expecting someone else to appear, then back at Ritsu. "Did you need something?"

Face to face with his brother, Ritsu feels all the accusing words he had planned slip from his head. "Ahh," Ritsu says, ever eloquent.

Mob blinks at him.

"You got," Ritsu says, "You got a letter." He shoves the envelope towards him. the muted red of the U.A. wax seal starkly contrasting again the crinkling paper. Ritsu watches the realization dawn on his brother's face, eyes widening by a fraction.

"Thank you for bringing this to me," Mob says. He takes the letter from Ritsu's rigid grip with gentle hands, as if the paper might crumble apart if he holds it wrong. "I appreciate it." He goes to shut the door, jolting when Ritsu shoves his foot out to stop it.

"When were you going to me you applied for U.A.?" He doesn't mean for the words to come out bitter but they do, each one burning his tongue on its escape.

Mob at least has the decency to look guilty, tilting his head to the side. "If I got in," he says, "I was going to tell you all at dinner."

Ritsu grits his teeth. "Did Reigen put you up to this?"

"He suggested it," Mob admits, frown deepening. "But it was my decision in the end."

Ritsu can't help the surge of satisfaction at being right, but even that's quickly replaced with worry. The cocktail of negative emotions swirls inside of him, the energy of them funneling into a ridiculous quirk he can't even control. The thought only fans the flames even more.

A hand claps against his shoulder, jousting Ritsu out of his thoughts. "Ritsu," Mob says, gaze steely. "Please do not worry, it's not good for you."

Ritsu bites his tongue. "I just want to be there for you brother," he says instead of all the other things on his mind. "I would like to be able to support you in someway."

Mob hums, glancing between the letter and Ritsu. He opens the door again. "Would you like to look at the results with me?"

Ritsu stares, feeling whiplash from the unexpected response. The tension between them lessening slightly. "That," he says, "would be nice."

Mob nods and retreats back into his room.

Ritsu follows hesitantly, as he slips in he fights the feeling that he doesn't belong there. His brother's room is similar to Mob himself in terms of plainness. A single futon lies unmade in the middle of the floor, the sheets rumpled in a way that makes them look like they haven't been washed in a while. A bookshelf sits next to it, full of old textbooks and novels with ripped covers that are probably older than both of the brothers combined. There's an empty spot in the corner where a desk used to be, but Mob had donated it to Ritsu a few months back, citing that he preferred using the kitchen table for homework where their mom could help him.

Mob had plopped down onto his futon and was in the process of gingerly ripping the envelope open. He pauses, patting next to him to signal Ritsu should sit down as well. Ritsu does.

Mob finishes opening the envelope only to have a small circular disk roll out of it. The brothers only have time to glance at each other before a flash of light erupts from it, coating the room in a thin blue glow as a hologram appears.

_Can they really afford this? _Ritsu thinks, frustrated at the ludicrous amount of money the gadget must of cost.

Immediately after that though, his train of thought promptly directs itself off of a cliff, as the beaming face of All Might bursts into the frame.

"I am here as a projection!" the number one hero booms. "Kageyama Shigeo! As a new staff member of U.A., I wanted to personally congratulate you! You not only passed the written portion of the exam, but the practical exam as well."

Feelings squirm around in Ritsu's chest, he does his best to ignore them.

"Not only that," All Might continues. "I would like to talk to you about your heroic actions on the battlefield. See, you scored forty five villain points! Normally, this on its own is a phenomenal achievement. However!" The man gestures, finger pointing upwards in a way that uncomfortable reminds Ritsu of Reigen's eccentricity. "That's not all the exam was grading for my boy!

"For your actions against the zero point robot, for how you stepped in to help another person in need, the school has chosen to award you fifty rescue points! Which brings your final score to…" The man pauses, seemingly for dramatic effect, but with each second that passes Ritsu can feel his chest constricting more. "...ninety five points, claiming you the top score among your peers! Good job lad, I am looking forward to seeing you at school where you can progress even farther! Say it with me now! PLUS…ULTRA!"

The hologram freezes, All Might's enthusiastic grin frozen in time. Ritsu can feel himself gaping as he turns to his older brother, only to find him blankly staring at the flickering screen.

_Well _, Ritsu thinks, the hum of energy lessening slightly as some of his worry ease. He turns back to the smiling face of All Might. _At least that's one thing less to be concerned about. After all, nothing bad can happen with All Might around._

.-.-.

The entrance to U.A. looks a lot bigger when there aren't as many people going into it. The potential students from the exam have been weaned down to the actual students, who walk through the gates with freshly pressed uniforms and carry brand new backpacks.

Mob and Reigen stand a ways away, with Reigen fussing over Mob's tie. He had insisted on meeting Mob right outside the school despite missing out on potential clients at the agency.

"Alright," Reigen says, stepping back in order to admire his handy work. He nods to himself, bringing a hand to his chin. "Perfect! Alright, are you ready to smile Mob?"

He also had insisted on bringing a little, disposable camera that he had brought at the drugstore with Mob a few days ago. He claimed that the proof his sidekick was attending the top school for heroics would help drum up even more attention to his business.

"I'm ready Master," Mob says.

"Alright! Say cheese!" Reigen says, pulling the camera's viewfinder up to his eye.

"Cheese," Mob says flatly. The camera clicks, emitting a blinding flash for a second before it goes off again. He blinks, trying to clear the spots from his eyes.

"Ahh, Mob, I think you might have blinked. We can just take it again though, but we should hurry so you're not late. Here, I wasn't expecting the flash, let's just see if I can...turn...it...off...Shi-I mean! Shoot! I think the switch is stuck. Mob, can you come look at this? I think-"

"Hey! Mob-kun!"

Reigen and Mob's heads snap up from the camera simultaneously, both catching a tiff of curly green hair rushing towards them. Midoriya wears a grin that runs cheek to cheek and is reminiscent of the number one hero. He's waving as he runs, as if worried that Mob wouldn't see him if he isn't calling as much attention to himself as possible.

He skids to a stop in front of them, slightly out of breath. "You really made it in!" he says.

The texts between Midoriya and Mob hadn't stopped over the course of the last few months, the chat logs now taking forever to scroll through. However, they had both agreed that when the results for the exam came, they wouldn't tell each other if they got in or not, and surprise each other on the first day. Mob had an inkling that Midoriya had gotten in though, judging by the amount of exclaimation points on his texts that sent the same day Mob got his results.

Mob nods, passing the camera back into his master's hands so he can fully turn to Midoriya. "Midoriya-kun," he says. "You got in too, it looks like your training paid off."

Midoriya positivity beams, face a slight pink. "Ye-Yeah, well I mean, I couldn't do it without support from people like you and Al-uh, my mentor." His face softens a bit, eyes watering. "I'm really thankful for all the help I've gotten."

Mob considers this, giving Midoriya an even stare. "I didn't do much," he finally says, saving the other boy from his nervous fidgeting. "You shouldn't dismiss the effort you put into it."

"Oi, Mob," Reigen interrupts. Izuku's head jolts towards him, as if just realizing he was there. "You gonna introduce me to your friend?"

Mob nods. "Master, this Midoriya-kun. I met him when I was running once. Midoriya-kun, this is my master, he's a hero from Spice City."

A hungry look appears in Izuku's eyes that's directed at Reigen. "You're a _hero _?" he asks, voice squeaking.

Something unreadable to Mob crosses Reigen's face for a split second, but he quickly slips into a dazzling smile that Mob mostly sees used on clients. "Yep," he says, popping the 'p'. He sticks out a hand towards Midoriya for a shake. "Reigen Arataka, better known as the Illusionist, top hero in Spice City. Pleased to meet you."

Midoriya reaches out and grabs it, shaking it with more force than probably necessary. Reigen's resulting grimace seems to go right over his head. Mob recalls a similar face from a time when he had accidentally removed the doorknob to Reigen's apartment when adjusting to the strength his regime with the Body Improvement Club has given him.

"This is amazing," Midoriya countiunes, voice breathy, "I didn't even know there were heroics agencies in Spice City anymore! I thought they all left when the city when the city went pretty much bankrupt and poured the remaining funds into the police force."

Reigen blinks at Midoriya. "Sounds like you've done your research," he says appreciatively, releasing his hand and straighten up. "Yeah, Spice City was a tourist city so when the tourist left, the money did too. And heroes get paid a lot more than the police, so," he smiles ruefully, "I'm the only hero left actually based in the city. Occasionally the pros from surrounding cities come in if there's a problem big enough though."

Midoriya frowns, "Isn't that a little dangerous for you though? Like, if you couldn't deal with a villian on your own, it would take a while for backup to show right?"

"Exactly," Reigen snorts. "I've been trying to say the same thing for a while now, but no one in government really listens. Inner Spice City is poor enough that news crews are scared to go there, so pros prefer to stick to the outskirts where the richer people live to get more publicity and thus, more pay."

Midoriya hums, pulling a fist to his mouth. "So the poorer parts of Spice City get even more poorer and more crime riddled without the presence of heroes." The realization sparks behind his eyes, like two wires clicking together. "That's…not good."

Reigen snorts again, "Hey Mob, I like your friend."

"Yes, Midoriya-kun is very smart," Mob says with a confirming nod of his head as he turns away from the bird he had been absent mindedly been watching. Like most of the conversations Reigen had with him about hero politics, most of what had been said went over Mob's head. But from what he could catch of it, it seemed like his master had found a person with similar dedication to studying the heroics industry. "He's helped me with school work sometimes over text," Mob adds for good measure.

Midoriya flushes. "Ahh, we-well, that was no big deal!" He jolts as if suddenly struck by lightning. "Oh yeah!" he says swinging his bright yellow backpack to the ground in front of him. He frantically unzips it, digs around inside, and pulls a slightly charred notebook that Mob recalls seeing on the beach. "I want to put you in as an entry in my hero analysis journal if you don't mind," he says, flipping through the pages. "Mob has a really powerful quirk, so I'm sure you do too to be able to teach him such precise control over his." He seems to find an empty page, pulls a pen out of his pocket, and presses against the page, eager to write. His eyes find Reigen's face again, beaming. "Could you describe it to me?"

A thin glean of sweat appears Reigen's forehead at the question. Mob notes how mouth puckers like when he sucked a sour candy and immediately spit it out. "Aah, well you see…" He trails off for a moment, before making a small clicking sound with his tongue and pointing towards the sky, a wobbly smile overtaking his features. "My quirk is very, very intricate! It would take quite a bit of time to explain the details, time that we don't really have now if you two don't want to be late! Midoriya!" His hand swings down, pointer finger narrowly avoiding swiping Midoriya's face. "What class are you in?"

"Uh," Midoriya says, the notebook lowering in his hands. "1-A?"

Reigen furiously nods, a hand coming up to his chin as he grins. "Excellent, excellent. Mob's in the same class as you then!" He picks up Midoriya's backpack, thrusting it into his hands and almost knocking the journal out of them. He puts a hand on Midoriya's back and a similar one on Mob's shoulder, herding them towards the gates. "Off we go then!"

As they're been pushed, Midoriya throws Mob a look that he can't read. Mob shrugs in return, and then given one last unceremonious shove through the gaudy, electronic gates of the school.

"Have a good first day, Mob!" Reigen shouts as they stumble into a steady walk.

"Your master…" Midoriya says after a moment, looking over his shoulder towards the gate as he walks. "...is weird."

Mob only hums, "He's a good person."

**To be continued… **

**Chapter End Notes**

**Yay! We've finally made it to the first day of school! :D Hope you guys are excited as I am for what comes next!**

**I also just want to take a moment to thank all of you guys for reading this story, seeing all the kudos and comments always really brightens my day. Writing this story is so much fun for me and I'm so excited that I get to share it with all of you guys, to see you all interact with it is such an amazing feeling. Honestly, thank you all.**


	5. The First Test is not the Final

The First Test is Not the Final

By: bunnyscribe (AO3)

The door of classroom 1-A stands tall in front of him. It stops at the ceiling, but for Izuku it feels like it reaches much higher. An obstacle in his way reaching all the way up to the high heavens, impossible to climb over or avoid entirely. The only way through it is the same as it's always been, forward.

He knows this all too well, learned this lesson a hundred times, but even then Izuku still hesitates. His hand's half stretched to the door, fingers carrying the slightest bit of tremors. He can feel Mob's stare on the back of his neck. It's not a judgmental gaze, nor is it pitying. It doesn't feel like anything but a slight pressure.

"Hey," Izuku says, trying to ignore the shaking in his voice. "Mob-kun?"

Mob hums.

"Do you think…" The weight of the question sits on Izuku's tongue, personal enough that he hesitates to ask it. He glances over his shoulder at the other boy, meeting his expectant eyes with a nervous look of his own. He looks away. "...we'll make friends here?"

Silence hangs in the air. Behind the door voices chatter amongst themselves, muffed by the door between them and their future.

The longer the silence continues, the faster Izuku's heart starts to beat. His palms feel sweaty by the time he finds it within himself to look up at Mob again.

He shivers under the intensity of the look Mob's giving him. Izuku can almost see his mind turning over the question, at that slow and steady pace Mob always seems to work at, as if he's really considering the answer. The thought actually helps to settle his nerves, if only slightly. At least whatever answer he gets will be an honest one.

"You're a kind person," Mob starts slowly. "For the little bit of time I've known you, I've seen that. You've worked very hard to get here and the people here will look hard enough to see it, I think." He nods, more to himself than Izuku. "Someone will look hard enough."

Izuku starts to feel water start to collect in the corners of his eyes, his lip wobbling. He brings up an arm to furiously rub away the tears. His grin's still shaky when he directs it at Mob, but if the other boy notices he doesn't comment.

"Yeah," Izuku says, voice thick. "I think you're right."

The door slides open easily after that, the first embers of courage licking at the inside of his chest. He's already made a friend with Mob, he thinks, and with any luck, he'll be able to make more. A fresh start, a blank slate, the first steps to becoming a hero.

Whatever hope he had is quickly snuffed out by a familiar, yelling voice. Just his luck.

Kacchan and the scary glasses boy who told him off before the exam are apparently both in his class. They don't seem to notice him at first, engaged in a loud discussion about the ethics of Kacchan resting his feet on the desk.

Kacchan notices Izuku first. His eyes drift away from the glasses boy as he introduces himself, no doubt thinking he's not important enough to commit to memory. Instead, he finds Izuku and his scowl immediately deepens. He pointedly looks away after a beat.

The glasses boy notices him next and marches towards him with a level of vigor that draws attention from the rest of their classmates. "I am Iida Tenya!" he says. "I am from Somei Priv-"

"Ah, I heard!" Izuku exclaims, waving his hands around. Iida stops dead in his tracks with his arms held up in mid-swing, his body tense in a way that reminds Izuku of the mechanical movements of the testing robots. "I'm Midoriya Izuku," he continues. "It's nice to meet you!"

Iida gives a curt nod. His mouth opens to say more, but something he sees when he glances over a Midoriya shoulder makes him pause.

Izuku turns his head to figure out what it is and almost smashes his face into Mob's. He yelps, surprised at both the sudden closeness and the fact he hadn't felt the other boy's approach at all. As he's recovering from the shock, he remembers Mob's about a half a head shorter than him and they shouldn't be eye level like this.

Izuku looks down to find Mob standing on his tiptoes. He stifles a giggle and side steps to allow Mob to stand more comfortably.

"Thanks," Mob tells him, still staring at Iida.

Iida seems flustered at the interruption, his arm going up and swing down in pivoted motions. "Apo-Apologies, I didn't notice you there!"

"It's ok," Mob says, tilting his head. "Most people don't." He doesn't let the implications behind the sentence sit for long, sticking his hand out towards Iida. "My name's Mob."

Izuku watches as Iida seems to visibly gain back his composure, the introduction seemingly throwing him back into familiar territory. "My name is Iida Tenya!" He grabs Mob's hand, shaking it up and down with such force that Mob's entire arm bounces with it. This time Izuku isn't able to stifle the laugh, hiding it behind his hands. "It a pleasure to meet you!"

Mob nods, "Likewise."

Iida eyebrows furrow, looking pensively at Mob. "That is a rather strange name though, is it your family name? Or is it your first name?"

"Neither, it's a nickname my classmates gave me."

"O-Oh, I see...Well!" Iida's hands come up again, moving in that familiar chopping motion. "If you would be preferred to be called that, it can certainly be accommodated! But I feel it's extremely important that we know you're actual name as well going into our first day here, as that's what you'll be officially known as on the rosters and if you were to get lost or injured it be best to-"

"Oi, hey! It's you, the bowl cut kid!"

Iida sputters, "Bowl cut kid?! Wh-"

Izuku turns to see a boy with black spiky hair standing at his desk, the odd one out among of a mass of sitting students. A wide grin spreads naturally across his face as though it's supposed to live there. His eyes are focused on Mob. "I haven't seen you since the entrance exam!" he says as he hurriedly makes his way to stand beside Iida. "How have you been?"

Mob tilts his head, looking the boy up and down as the seconds drag on.

"I'm sorry," he finally says. "Who are you?"

The boy's faces pinches as he hisses, but even that quickly turns into a laugh. "Ooh, that stings a little," he says, before brushing the statement off with the wave of his hand. "Don't worry about though, 's been a while since then so I get it. I'm Sero Hanta, the one you save from that big robot at the exam. Y'know?" Sero raises his hands as high as they will go, moving them in a box shape that's a poor imitation of one of the test robots heads. "That one?"

Izuku looks over at Mob, trying to school the shock out of his features. It had been near impossible not to hear about the second zero pointer being destroyed. Even if All Might hadn't told him first, the U.A. hero forums had quickly swept up the event as 'groundbreaking history'. He knew Mob's quirk was powerful, probably even on level with Kacchan's, but could it really be that powerful?

Unaware of Izuku's dilemma, Mob stares at Sero till his eyes spark with recognition. "Yes, I remember now," he says, "How's your head?"

"It's fine! Just a minor concussion, so I was out of the game for a few days but that's it."

"So!" Iida interrupts before either of the two of them can say anything else. His intense focus is directed at Mob, and Izuku can't help but be grateful it's moved off of himself.

"It appears then that you also discovered the true nature of the exam...Mob-kun," Iida says, stumbling over his name. It only stops him for a second though, and then he's right back to gesturing between Mob and Izuku. "And to think! I had no idea the entire time! I truly misjudged the two of you."

"Aww, don't feel too bad man," Sero says, clapping Iida hard enough on the back that it sends him stumbling a step forward. "It's not like I thought of rescue points either."

Izuku feels his cheeks warm. "N-No! It's not like that, I really didn't realize anything! I just did what I thought was right!"

Iida squeezes his eyes shut and clenches his fist, bringing it up to his chest. "And so modest as well! You truly are the superior hero in training here."

"Ah, I don't think that's true," Mob says, and for the first time ever Izuku can hear an almost assertive tone creep into his voice. "No one here is better than anyone else, we're all just students."

From his seat Bakugou scoffs and for the first time in a long while, Izuku agrees with the reaction. He's long since learned that every person is not born equal, despite anything that his elders might have said throughout his education to try and sweep his bullying under the rug. He feels a pang in his chest as he realizes Mob has probably been too powerful his entire life to have been taught that lesson.

He doesn't get to dwell on that depressing thought for long though. A feminine voice behind him loudly exclaiming "Curly hair!" puts him into a conversation with the nice girl from the exams.

A second later, a pro hero Izuku's never seen rolls into the classroom in a sleeping bag and hands them all gym uniforms. And Izuku's day just goes rapidly downhill from there.

.-.-.

Katsuki has racked up a lot of problems in a relatively short amount of time, mainly with the people around him. The extras are as annoying as always, but, while inconvenient, they've never really been an issue. He knows for certain he's above them, they're nothing more than stepping stones that he will use to carry himself higher. He has always won against them and in the end, he will always come out on top, these are facts much in the same way the sky is blue.

He stands out of the way of all of his classmates in the changing room for those exact reasons. None of them are worth talking to, he thinks as he pulls on his gym clothes. At the end of the day, this entire school is in competition and anybody who wants to try being buddy-buddy with him should think twice.

He pulls on his gym clothes with more aggression than necessary, pulling the fabric taught to the point of almost tearing. When he's finished, he notes that it doesn't quite fit right. The shirt's baggy and the pants are sagging, both just a little too big his frame.

Across the locker room, Deku starts laughing.

Katsuki's head snaps up to find Deku and Bowl for Brains standing close together, chatting casually. Bowl for Brain still looks as boring as a blank sheet of paper for all his facial expression changes but Deku looks grossly cheerful enough for the two of them.

No, the extras haven't been an issue. At least, not in the same way Deku has become recently. The weepy brat had started standing up to him again, showing some spine for the first time since grade school. Katsuki has no idea why Deku keeps acting like his equal when it's so obvious that he's so useless compared to Katsuki. Even backed into a corner, Deku still denied him an answer, spewing some bullshit about someone believing in him.

He slams his locker shut and makes his way out to the athletic field, followed shortly by rest of the students. Katsuki keeps a close eye on Deku, who now sports an entourage of bright eyed idiots. Bowl for Brains and him are still attached by the hip.

There's also the issue of how Deku fooled the school into admitting him in the first place. He claimed to have earned his spot in the class, but a weak, quirkless bastard like him would've been no match for those bots. Yet, here he was, standing across from Katsuki in the open field. The apparent holder of the most rescue points across the board, talking to their peers all chummy like they're all on an equal level.

This was supposed to be his fresh start damnit! He was the only one who was supposed to leave their shitty little school and actually make something of himself. And now Deku had to go and take that away from him too, trailing behind him like always.

He can't even celebrate getting into U.A. the way he wanted to since someone went ahead a swiped the top spot out from beneath him.

Katsuki looks over his class again with a more critical eye. None of them look like much, certainly not enough to claim the top spot in the exams, but looks are apparently deceiving if Deku's any indication.

The creepy teacher appears out of nowhere, going on about doing the same physical exams they've been doing since junior high and how they're going to use their quirks for it now. Katsuki doesn't really care much, but at least he'll have an official measurement for what he can do with his quirk.

"Kageyama," the teacher says. Katsuki perks up at the name and in the corner of his eyes, he can several of his classmates doing the same. "You finished first in the practical exams, correct?"

"That's right," Bowl for Brains says with a nod.

Katsuki's jaw drops.

.-.-.

"You got the top score on the exams?!"

Mob winces at the shrillness of Midoriya's voice right next to his ear. He blinks only to find everyone's eyes on him, all watching him with different levels of disbelief. He looks down at his feet, starting to sweat.

_Fifty-one._

"Dude," Sero says somewhere behind him. "Nice."

"But he's so plain?" a girl mutters. "I thought it was like the stronger the quirk, the more presence the person has?"

"My, my," says one of the boys. "Can his abilities really shine that brightly if his appearance can not?"

_Fifty-two._

"Oi," Aizawa says. The irritability lining the single syllable enough to draw the entire class's attention to him. "We don't have all day. Kageyama, what was your record on the ball toss in junior high?"

"Forty-six meters," Mob says, still eyeing his feet. A ball comes soaring through the air towards him and he fumbles to catch it.

"Try it again, and use your quirk this time," Aizawa says. "You can do whatever you want, but you can't leave the ring."

Mob hesitates before entering the chalk circle in the same way a spirit might hesitate before entering one made of salt. With the vague instructions, he can't help but feel like this is some sort of test and he's never been very good at those. Regardless, he pushes himself forward because there's nothing left to do.

He steps into the center of the ring, raises his arm up to throw the ball, and then stops completely. Using his quirk to its max potential, he could probably toss the ball way off campus and what if it hits something important? He imagines it crashing directly into someone's head, sending them down just like Sero during the exam, except this time he won't be there to help. He drops his arm and stares at the ball.

"Kageyama," Aizawa says. "Any time now."

"This won't," Mob starts, glancing up at Aizawa. The man raises an eyebrow, the impatience visible enough on his face enough to make Mob sweat harder. He looks back at the ball. "Will this hurt anyone? If it accidentally goes off campus?"

"...No," Aizawa says. "The direction you're facing leads to a large forest, it'd be illogical for anyone to be out there now. And even if they are, the ball will more likely hit a tree than any person. Now, throw the ball."

Mob slowly nods, turning over the answer a couple times before he finds it acceptable. He reels his arm back again and this time he sends the ball flying. He catches it with his powers at the last second, giving it an extra push that propels it forward with a blast of air. The following boom echoes through the field.

A stunned silence follows, the students all staring at Mob with a variety of different unreadable expressions. Mob purposefully doesn't look at them.

Aizawa stares at the counter, watching as the number ticks up the further the ball goes. It takes a couple minutes for it to stop, and when he finally shows it to the class, the final number reads nine hundred and fifty-two meters.

.-.-.

Izuku stares at his friend as if he's looking at him again for the first time, body sagging in shock. His new classmates are much the same from what he can see, some staring at Mob with wide eyes and others looking up to where they could last see the tiny dot that was the ball ascending.

Sero whistles, appearing next to Izuku. He keeps one hand over the top of his eyes, shielding them from the sun as he looks up. "Damn," he says, "It's one thing to see the aftermath, it's a whole 'nother to see that in person."

Izuku had known Mob was powerful. That much was had been made obvious even from the few times he had used his quirk on the beach, but this amount of strength is something he couldn't have guessed at. He's probably even stronger than Kacchan and the thought strikes an uncomfortable note within Izuku.

They meet eyes. Mob looks away from him first, his cheeks a slight pink.

"Knowing your maximum capabilities is the first step in becoming a pro hero," Aizawa says. "In order to strengthen your quirks and better yourself, you must know your limits first, that is the only rational way to do it. However." He grins, pulling back his hair to reveal a downright manic look. "You lot don't seem to be approaching this very rationally. Alright then, whoever places last will be deemed to have no potential and be expelled."

Blood rushes to Izuku's ears, drowning out any protests the other students might've had. Years of analyzing allows him to quickly break the situation down in his head, and he finds his odds of getting through this with anything but last past very slim. He's no match for kids who have been learning to use their entire lives when he's only had a few months. Could he really lose his spot right at the starting line?

One look at the Aizawa's face informs Izuku that he's deadly serious.

When the events start, Izuku tries to rely on his training with All Might, pushing him to do the best he can't without relying on his quirk. Those months of public service can't be for nothing, they have to at least help a little. But in every instance, during every test, someone's there to do better him and get a score worthy of a true hero to be. His classmates' quirks are just too versatile compared to his own physical strength.

The only person who doesn't use their quirk during any of the other tests besides Izuku is Mob.

At first, Izuku thinks the other boy might have pushed himself too far with the ball throw, but Mob doesn't seem winded. In fact, he seems to use to these kinds of tests, getting higher scores than Izuku even with neither of them using their quirks. Izuku can't decide whether it's just that Mob doesn't think of using his quirk or if he just doesn't want to, and it's not like his blank face reveals any answers.

There's not much time to dwell though, Izuku speeding through the tests with mediocre scores until he finds himself at the ball toss.

This is his only chance to make an impression, he thinks as he glances at Aizawa's impassive face. He can't get kicked out on his first day, he refuses to let all that he's worked for go to waste. He has to do this, not only for himself but for All Might, for his mom, and for Mob. His only option is to go all out.

He winds up his pitch, feels the power of One For All surge into his arm like lightning from a cloudless sky, and sends the ball flying.

It lands a few pathetic meters in front of him.

Aizawa's voice cuts through the following silence. "I erased your quirk," he says. Izuku feels cool panic raising in his chest, fingers twitching at the sudden loss of energy.

"What?" Izuku asks flatly, too dumbstruck to add any inflection to his voice. The realization of who exactly his homeroom teacher is hits him a second later and he takes a sharp breath in. "You're Eraserhead."

Eraserhead doesn't even bother responding, his hair gently billowing upward, his eyes red-rimmed and stare piercing. His scarves ripples around him, as though trying to drift off without him. "You can't control your quirk properly can you?" he says coldly, stepping forward. "What? Do you expect someone to come and save you when you're incapacitated?"

The scarves dart forward, wrapping themselves around Izuku's wrists and pulling him forward with a startled yelp. "Face the facts, Midoriya Izuku," Aizawa says, looming over Izuku. "In your current state, you're more likely to cause casualties than to save anyone."

The scarves drop and the moment passes, despite Izuku's racing heart telling him otherwise. Aizawa tosses the ball back into Izuku's hands. "You have a second try at the ball toss," he says, already walking away.

Izuku brings a hand to his chest in a desperate attempt to calm down. He has to calm down because he has to think straight. He can't give up here. He has no other choice than to use everything he has.

Even if it means walking away from this down a finger.

Kacchan rushes Izuku the second the score is announced, demanding answers with fire in his eyes and in his palms. Izuku can feel that old instinctive fear rise up in him through the pain and the hints of pride. He scrambles to move away.

Suddenly, a purple glow envelops Kacchan and, before Izuku can blink, he hits the ground with a large smack.

Izuku looks over at Aizawa first, but the teacher seems as surprised as he is. One of his hands wrapped around his capture weapon, his hair ruffling outwards like waves. Izuku follows his eyes over to the cluster of other students.

Mob stands at the forefront of all of them, hand stretched out and glowing a steady, hazy purple. His hair flows upwards in the same way Aizawa's did when he had used his quirk. The thing that really catches Izuku though is the look on Mob's face. It's as unreadable as it usually is, but there's an edge to it now, sharp enough to cut.

Kacchan immediately pushes himself up, movements jerky from his rage. "Do you want to fucking go?!" he shouts at Mob.

Mob's hand goes down, his hair falling back into his face. "Don't use your quirk with the intent to harm others," Mob says, voice firm. "It's not right." His eyes flicker over to Izuku. "Especially when someone is already injured."

Kacchan screeches, making to move towards Mob now. This time Aizawa catches him within his scarves.

.-.-.

Izuku sees Mob's name in fifth place on the scoreboard first, easy to catch now that he knows it. Kacchan's in third, which is surprising, Iida in fourth, Uraraka in tenth, Sero in fifteenth. His eyes keep scanning downward, praying that he finds himself somewhere in the middle of the board, but even that hope is quickly smothered.

Midoriya Izuku, twentieth place.

He can feel his world shattering around him, his stomach churning with an oncoming slate of nausea. He feels eyes move onto him, all staring him down, watching him fail, and honestly, it just makes this whole thing that worse. What is he going to tell his mom? What's he going to tell All Mi-?

"By the way," Aizawa says, clicking the scores off the screen. "No one's expelled, that was only a logical ruse to draw out your best performance." Then, after pushing a note to go to the infirmary into Izuku's hands, he saunters off.

"Wa-Wait!" Uraraka shouts after him. "You can't just leave after saying that!"

"Wasn't it obvious that it was just a trick though?" the girl in the ponytail asks, one finger pressed against her lips. "No reasonable teacher would expel students on the first day."

The sudden whiplash leaves Izuku feeling faint. But then Mob's hand presses against his back, a steady anchor to reality.

**To be continued…**

**Some little facts about this chapter and AU in general:**

***A lot of you expected it, but Mob took Mineta's spot in the class. Mineta is now either bothering some other hero school or has just given up on his hero dream in general. Perhaps he's put some thought into why he failed to get into U.A. and is now attempting to be a better person, we can hope.**

***The main reason Mob doesn't use his quirk during the quirk apprehension test is that he honestly doesn't think to do so. He's done this test so frequently with the Body Improvement Club, he's honestly used to just using his base physical strength that it just comes naturally to him. The only reason he used it on the ball throw is he was outright asked too.**

***Yaoyorozu scores top on the tests still, I don't know if that's gonna come up yet, but I just want to point it out. She knows how to apply her quirk to any situation and she deserves recognition for that.**

***You know those little official stat things that all the characters have? Well here's Mob's:**

**Power: 6/5**

**Speed: 4/5**

**Technique: 2/5**

**Intelligence: 2/5**

**Cooperativeness: 4/5**


	6. Dress Our Children in War Paint

**Dress Our Children in War Paint**

By: bunnyscribe (AO3)

When the bell rings for the final class of Mob's second day at U.A., All Might storms into the room like a hurricane. He's a lot more energetic in person than he is on television, enough so that Mob almost finds it overwhelming despite how similar it is to his master.

He can't dwell on his energy for too long though, as a card with the words 'Battle Training' is thrust into the air to the jubilant response of the students. Then, before Mob knows it, he's being herded out to the changing rooms by his fellow classmates.

In the locker room, all the boys seem to be throwing on their costumes as fast as possible, loudly clamoring among themselves as they rush to get ready. There are discarded uniforms flying in every direction, piling up on the concrete floors. Even Midoriya beside him seems to be hurrying, struggling to put on his mask in just the right way with such fervor that it jiggles the belt half tied around his waist.

Meanwhile, Mob stares down at his costume, unmoving. It's a pretty plain compared to the rest of his classmates; an all-black suit with a black mask and black boots. The only pop of color is his belt which his master had insisted be the same bright pink of his tie so he "was a recognizable member of the Heroic Consultation Office." His master had smiled when he said that.

Mob must drift off more than he means to because the next thing he knows is Midoriya tapping on his shoulder with a concerned look on his face. All the other boys are gone. "Are you ok?"

Mob thinks he's ok. He tries to express this to Midoriya. "I'm fine," he says.

Midoriya smiles at him, concern shifting into something Mob can't pinpoint. He looks down at Mob's costume, draped over the bench. "I like your costume," he says softly. "The belt is a cool color."

"My master picked it out."

"I really like it, I think it'll look good on you."

Mob isn't too sure why Midoriya is telling this but nods all the same. "I'll tell him that you said that," he says. "He'll like that."

Midoriya turns back to him, that same smile on his face and rests a hand on Mob's shoulder. He finds he doesn't mind that much when Midoriya touches him like that. It's like when Ritsu does it, but different. "I'm gonna go outside," Midoriya says. "Try not to take too long. We're supposed to get started soon I think."

"Ok," Mob says.

Midoriya pats his shoulder one more time and then disappears around the lockers.

Mob changes after that. The suit is a little too tight and a weird texture against his skin. He finds himself wishing that he could just wear his gym clothes. He likes the belt though. He likes the feeling of bringing something with him to this new and unfamiliar place, and the belt makes him feel like he's brought something of the Heroic Consultation Office.

_Fifteen._

"Ooh, Mob!" Uraraka exclaims when she sees him walking outside. She waves furiously at him, as though he's not standing but five feet away. She's the closest to the gate and quite a distance away from the rest of their classmates, almost like she was waiting for something. "I love your costume!"

Mob blushes, bringing a hand up to the back of his neck. "You do?"

"Yeah!" Uraraka says, pumping a fist into the air. "It's really sleek!"

Mob goes to thank her but is interrupted by the loud booming voice of All Might. "Students!" It's hard not to be drawn in by his voice, Mob finds, despite the way the volume grates on his ears. "Are you ready for battle training?"

All Might goes on to explain all the rules of the activity they'll be doing. Mob finds himself feeling more and more pressure inside his chest with each word.

Mob raises his hand after the explanation. "So we'll actually be fighting each other?" he asks.

The atmosphere surrounding All Might appears to stutter after he asks. Mob thinks maybe it wasn't a question he was expecting. He starts to sweat when all his classmates turn to look at him, all with that familiar face that lets him know that he missed something.

All Might coughs into his hand, bring attention back to himself. "Yes, well," All Might says, "Combat situations will only come in the form of capturing your opponent! The goal is not to actually cause harm, it is simply to wrap tape around the other person as sufficient proof of the capture. Excessive violence will result in an immediate disqualification."

Mob turns this over in head a few times, till the rough edges of the thought smooth out like a river stone. He still doesn't like it, but he nods anyway.

All Might nods with him. "Thank you Kageyama, that's probably something very important to know for this exercise."

_Twenty-nine._

Mob feels the pressure inside him bubbling. He doesn't have time to think about why though, as All Might starts drawing lots to decide teams.

His name and Uraraka's come up immediately as Team A.

Uraraka is visibly thrilled about this. "All right!" she yells, grabbing Mob's hand and shaking it around in a burst of excitement. "This will be so much more fun with a friend!"

Mob blushes again, gently taking his hand away when she's done.

The lots are continually pulled. People who he doesn't recognize are paired with people he does, going down the list until the hits Team F.

"Bakugou and Midoriya!" All Might says.

Mob glances over to see Midoriya's reaction and is greeted with a pained, pale expression and clenched fists. He glances over to see Bakugou's reaction and is met with a face so red that it reminds him of the cheeks on smiling masks.

It was rather obvious to Mob that there was bad blood between the two of them, though he never pried Midoriya to find out as to why. He wonders if he should have. He looks back and forth between them and something sad shuffles around in his chest for both of them. He's not too sure what to do with it.

Before he even has a chance, All Might has moved on from picking teams and is on to draw lots to decide the battles themselves.

When Team A and Team F come out first, Mob gets a very, very bad feeling.

"It's us!" Uraraka says with a small gasp. "Wow, that's a lot of pressure. Going first I mean."

Mob stares over towards Bakugou and Midoriya, who have moved closer together but are still pointedly not looking at each other. Both are shaking, but Mob guesses it's for very different reasons. "Yeah," he says slowly, "Yeah, it is."

Uraraka tilts her head with a small frown and follows his gaze. "Oh," she says, her expression shifting. "You don't have to worry Mob. I'm sure things will be ok." Her voice is soothing, it reminds him of his mother when he was young enough to have his back rubbed and told words of comfort.

Mob nods. "You're right," he says, voice sounding hollow even to his own ears.

"Sure I am," Uraraka says with a nod of confidence. "Now." She steps in front of Mob, a little too close for his comfort, and blocks his view of the other two boys. "We need to strategize!"

Mob takes a half step back while allowing himself time to process that last bit. "I don't think I'm going to be very good at that," he says. " I'm not very smart."

Uraraka expression quickly shifts into something so disgusted that Mob feels his stomach drop straight into a vat of the emotions that have built up inside of him. Did she not realize that before? Maybe she's just now realizing how bad it is that they're on a team together.

"Who-" she says, voice thin and upset- "told you that?"

Mob blinks, not having expected that kind of response. "A lot of people," he says. Her expression moves into a territory he cannot read. "My grades aren't very good," he adds for good measure, wanting her to smile again.

If anything, she just looks more off-put. Her brows furrow more and mouth tilts down. "Mob," she says slowly. "I've never had good grades either. Would you assume I'm not smart?"

"No," Mob says immediately.

"Then why would you think that about yourself?"

Mob uncomfortably shifts his weight to his other foot. He can feel the heat rising to his face. "It's different," he says because it is. Mob didn't succeed in any of his goals to win over Tsubomi, at least not fully. The journey was important, just as his master said, but he still has a long way to go.

Uraraka lets out a deep breath, her shoulders shaking on the way back down. "Just- rethink about it," she says. "Please."

"Ok," Mob tells her, only because he can't think of anything else to say.

.-.-.

Mob crawls in through the window, trying to go slow so as not to cut himself on the glass shards scattered across the floor. Uraraka reaches out to help him, being careful not to touch him with all of her fingers.

"Alright!" she whispers once Mob's on his feet. She crouches down and spreads her arms out in an almost comical way. "Infiltration completed!"

Mob hums and looks around. They're surrounded by hallways made of cold, unforgiving gray tile just like the blueprints showed. The floors are sparkling like they've been cleaned recently or maybe never even touched since the building's construction. There's only one loose tile on the ceiling, hanging down low enough to see the black gap above it.

"So, what next Mob-kun?" Uraraka says as she stands back up. She throws him a pointed look that goes right over his head.

"Oh." Mob scrambles to find an answer that will appease her, looking at each individual hallway. He wonders what she's expecting from him. He doesn't know, but he tries anyway. "We...start moving?"

Uraraka beams at him and relief hits Mob in a small wave, washing over the collection of other emotions. "Ok," she says. "Let's start moving then."

They only get a few steps down the second hallway, about to turn down the next, when Bakugou flings out from behind the corner.

It's so surprising that Mob doesn't have time to think when an explosion is fired at him and Uraraka.

He flings Uraraka away with his powers at the same time he trips over his own two feet in an attempt to get away. Uraraka sails down the hallway they just came from, landing flat on her back. Mob's shoulder gets burnt before he hits the floor.

"You," Bakugou says, rounding on Mob. "You're the Bowl for Brains that scored higher than me on the exam."

Mob starts to push himself up. Bakugou walks over and puts a foot on his burnt shoulder to push him down again. It hurts.

_Twenty-two._

He sneers at Mob, looking down on him. "You beat me at the entrance exam," he says and pushes down his foot harder. Mob winces.

"And then you go on and on about how we're all equal as classmates!" Bakugou shouts. "You didn't even try on quirk apprehension test, did you?! God-" he pushes his hair back, and glares with the one eye not covered by his hand- "you piss me off. Do you even think you'll be able to become a hero if you don't fight?"

Mob can hardly process through the pain, let alone respond. The foot shifts and Mob lets out a small gasp.

_Forty-five._

His fingers twitch towards his capture tape. Bakugou sees this and presses him further into the tile.

A piece of debris comes flying down the hall, hitting Bakugou squarely in the head. "Leave him alone, you big bully!" Uraraka yells.

Bakugou scowls, throwing a scathing look in her direction. His foot eases off Mob's shoulder enough that he can move his arms. "Shut up, Round Face! Stay out of this!"

_Fifty-nine._

Mob takes full advantage of the momentary distraction. He grabs Bakugou's leg and pushes it off of him with all the strength he can muster.

Bakugou goes stumbling backward and Mob scrambles to get up. Self-defense techniques his master taught him start to fill his head. He throws a kick at Bakugou.

Bakugou grabs his leg, fire sputtering out of his palms. Mob grabs for his neck and throws his leg down at the same time, breaking out of the hold. He gets behind Bakugou and pushes him away.

Bakugou recovers quickly, throwing another punch at Mob the second he regains his balance. Mob dodges out of the way and the explosive punch leaves a small crater in the wall instead.

"Use your quirk already!" Bakugou rages, spit flying out of his mouth.

"No," Mob says. "I don't want to hurt you."

This is the wrong thing to say apparently, as Bakugou roars and rears back to throw another punch at him. It misses, brushing right above Mob's head as he goes floating upwards.

Uraraka stands behind the spot where he was originally, hand still raised from where it touched him. She seems out of breath.

Bakugou wordlessly screeches, raising a hand of his own, and starts a series of explosions that sends him twisting like a fiery tornado.

_Sixty-two._

Time seems to slow down for Mob. With how close Uraraka is standing, the flames will burn her pretty badly. Mob can't let that happen. And so, without conscious thought, he surrounds Bakugou's hands with two telekinetic bubbles.

Bakugou screams again and whirls in the air towards Mob. "Take me seriously!" he demands.

_Eighty-five._

"Stop trying to hurt others," Mob says coldly, pulling the capture tape out of his pocket, "and maybe I will."

For all the struggling, the capture tape wraps around Bakugou's leg surprisingly easily. A buzzer goes off. "Bakugou has officially been captured!" All Might's voice booms.

.-.-.

"Bakugou has officially been captured!"

The words shake Izuku to his very core. He's been keeping track of the clock since the timer started clicking down, it had only been about six of the fifteen minutes allotted and already Kacchan was down? He wasn't sure what the outcome he was expecting with Mob and Kacchan facing off, but it certainly wasn't this.

After the shock comes the embarrassment. The entire time they had been meant to strategize, the entire walk to the bomb and Izuku couldn't even bring himself to try and collaborate with the other boy. Then again, Kacchan had seemed in no mood to talk to him either, but Izuku strongly suspected that was more out of concentrated rage rather than unrestrained fear.

When the counter had started and Kacchan darted off, Izuku didn't move to follow him or even contact him over the earpieces they were given. He kind of wishes he had now if only to see how Mob and Uraraka had used their quirks to combat Kacchan. Was there any fear at all? Any hesitation on their end? He wishes he knew.

However, while shaken up, the news does spur Izuku into action again. Now is his chance. He has the desperate need to prove himself, to All Might, to his classmates, to Mob.

He knows the other two will be headed here next, they have to get the bomb before the time limit is up. Having analyzed and talked to Mob so much, he knows the other boy most likely won't try to use his quirk at all. That means all he's up against is Mob's base strength and Uraraka's quirk.

The fact that Mob isn't using his quirk doesn't give him too much of an edge though, as he can't really use his either. Any attempt would render him effectively useless and probably kill someone if it landed a hit at one hundred percent.

Plus Mob's base strength is higher than his and also he's been working along a pro-hero for who knows how long. That fact combined with Uraraka's quirk probably will make for a rather challenging combination, especially if they have a good enough strategy to take down Kacchan behind it.

Ok, so this is going to be more difficult than he thought.

He looks around, taking stock of the room. There's not too much inside of it, just a lot of boxes with a paper mache bomb sitting in the middle of the room. He quickly notes that the boxes could pose somewhat of a problem with Uraraka's quirk and hurriedly starts clearing them out of the room while trying to think of a plan.

He's going to be easily overwhelmed if both of them come onto him at once and he knows that they know that, which mean it's probably their current strategy. And that means that Izuku's going to have to find some way to split them up or, even better, take one of them down instantly. But is there anything he can even use to do something like that?

The plan that forms in his head is haphazard at best and downright reckless at worst, but it's a plan all the same and the only idea he can form under the pressure.

He stacks two boxes in front of each of the three entrances, leaping over the last stack and darting to the stairwell closest to the main one. He ducks down, making himself as small as possible in case they come this way, and waits.

He counts the time, sixty-eight seconds pass until he hears the shuffling of a box come from one of the side entrances. Then he's off, rushing towards it and leaving a flurry of footsteps in his wake.

When he reaches the entrance, both of the boxes have been pushed to the side. He lifts a hand, clutching his index finger with his thumb. Uraraka and Mob both turn to look at him. "Deku-kun?" Uraraka asks.

He concentrates All for One into his finger and shoots it at the wall closest to Mob. A boom of air rushes forward with the force of it and leaves a gaping hole in the wall. Mob is consequently sucked towards the opening as well, but not directly hit by the blow. Uraraka stays standing, but just barely.

Izuku doesn't give himself time to think about pain or strategy, instead pulling out his capture tape and rushing towards Uraraka.

Uraraka, more focused on getting to Mob, doesn't notice Izuku till it's too late. She squeals, lifting up a hand to smack against him, but Izuku has already wrapped the capture tape around Uraraka's wrist and knots it shut.

The buzzer goes off again. "Uraraka has been captured!"

Izuku can't believe that worked.

"You got me!" Uraraka says, looking at her arm in surprise and then down at Izuku's finger. She frowns. "How did you do that?"

"I- I didn't think that was going to work honestly," he says with a wobbly grin. He starts positioning himself back in a fighting stance as Mob starts to get back up. He's very very careful with his index finger. "If you had reacted a second earlier, I would've been done for."

"Ahh, shoot," Uraraka says with a huff. A determined fire suddenly enters her eyes. "Well, I'll get you next time, that's a promise. And next time," she says, worry snapping back into her face. "Please be more careful."

Then she looks towards Mob, and her expression flickers through so many different emotions so quickly that even Izuku can't register them all. Izuku follows her eyes.

Mob finishes staggering upright, and for the first time, Izuku gets a good look at his shoulder. It's covered in a familiar type of burn that Izuku's seen too many times before, had too many times before, and Izuku winces with sympathy pain. Mob's hand hovers cautiously over top of it and he's breathing heavily, and Izuku can only hope he didn't skid on it.

"Midoriya," Mob says. There's a look in his eyes that Izuku almost misses, as its so subtly different from his usually blank expression. It's unnaturally cold though and that's enough to unsettle Izuku.

He starts to ease out of his fighting stance without thinking about it. "Ye-Yeah?" he asks, nerves suddenly skyrocketing.

Mob glances at Uraraka, then to Izuku, and then to Izuku's hand. "I don't like this."

"It's ok, Mob-kun," Uraraka says softly. "I'm not hurt, thanks to you. It's just an exercise." The words are practiced like she's repeated them multiple times on the way up here. Izuku imagines that she has had to if the look in Mob's eyes is any indication.

Mob's whole body starts shaking, fist clenched tightly. It's the most emotional Izuku has ever seen him, and he's not quite sure how to deal with it. "I don't like it," Mob repeats, "so I won't fight you."

"M-Mob…" Izuku says, body relaxing entirely. He takes a step towards him.

"We shouldn't try to really hurt each other. We're just students," Mob says. "It's not right."

"It's ok, Mob," Izuku says, taking another step forward. His finger starts to sting, adrenaline fading. "It's just training."

"It's not right," Mob says.

And then the buzzer rings again, announcing that times up.

.-.-.

All Might is taking his time getting used to teaching. But with U.A.'s fast-paced education, it seems like time is a luxury he cannot afford.

The rest of the battle training exercises go well, despite the nightmare that is the first round. Midoriya and Kageyama were the only ones seriously injured in the class, the rest managing to make it out unscathed. All in all that's not too bad, he had seen far worse when he was a student.

He can still hear Kageyama's voice in his ear. "It's not right," he had said.

Perhaps battle training had not been the best exercise for the second day of school. He had just wanted to show the students what they had to look forward to in the future, but in Kageyama's case, it might have backfired.

Perhaps in Bakugou's case as well. The boy had an inflated ego, but All Might knew well that those tended to burst spectacularly. He had watched the rest of the fights with a stormy sort of silence, but his mind seemed to be else. If All Might has to guess, it was probably back in the training building, playing his loss over and over again.

His time runs out almost immediately after class, leaving him darting away from his students in a rush. There's a popping sound the second he gets far enough away, and suddenly his clothes are loosely draped over him as he returns to his true form.

"Dammit," he says.

He makes his way over to the nurse's office, where he had sent Midoriya and Kageyama after their fight. The door is ajar, so he peeks in, and finds Midoriya and Kageyama sitting on their respective beds. They are both silent.

As if sensing his presence, the door opens and slams shut, leaving an irate Recovery Girl standing in front of him.

"How could you let this happen?" she demands. "This is the second day of school, and yet you keep sending students here! Your successor has been here three times!"

"I know," All Might says, rubbing his hands together. "I should have stopped it when I notice how upset Kageyama was getting, but I hesitated because I wanted to give Midoriya a chance in combat."

"Well, I hope it was worth it," Recovery Girl says with a huff. Then she softens, rubbing against her temple. "Look, I know he's your favorite, but you can't sacrifice other students' well beings to further his development."

All Might feels the offense down to his bones. "That's not what I was trying to do!" he says.

"Yes, well that's what you did!" Recovery Girl says. "The boy hasn't talked since he's been in here, despite the other trying to get him to open up." She sighs. "I don't know what happened, but he's not doing well."

The offense disappears, replaced immediately by the feeling on his nonexistent stomach falling to his feet. He knew Kageyama didn't like fighting or using his quirk, he had observed as much on the first day of school and at the beach. And yet, he had still pushed him to do so, perhaps not directly but as a mentor.

"May I," he wrings his hand together, bouncing back for foot to foot. "May I talk to them?"

Recovery stares at him sharply, like she's trying to reach inside him and pull him apart. She seems to find what she's looking for as her gaze softens. "All right," she says, "but don't push yourself."

All Might doesn't respond, instead puffing himself up using the last dredges of his hero form, and opens the door.

Midoriya snaps to attention the second he steps inside, "All Might!"

Kageyama is much slower to look up, barely lifting his head. A shadow from his hair covers most of his face, leaving only his eyes showing underneath.

"Midoriya! Kageyama! How are your injuries?"

There's a pause where Midoriya throws a worried glance at Kageyama, almost like he's waiting for him to respond. "We're fine," Midoriya says when Kageyama doesn't.

All Might frowns. He walks over to Kageyama's bed, towering over him. Kageyama looks up, the shadows lifting from his face to reveal a blank face. He looks vastly more impassive than he did on the video screens, but there's still a cold something lingering in his eyes.

"Kageyama," All Might says. "It seems I have done something unjust to you today."

"...It's fine," Kageyama finally says.

"No, I don't think it is," All Might say, reaching down to put a hand on Kageyama's shoulder. The boy flinches, so he immediately removes it. "I have seen how you don't enjoy violence. I watched you grow more and more upset over the course of the training, yet I did not ask how you were nor did I stop the exercise. And for that-" he sighs, kneeling down so he's more Kageyama's height- "I am deeply sorry."

Something shifts in the room, there's a little pop of pressure and the feeling of static runs through All Might. He looks up as the lights flicker. When he glances back down at Kageyama, the look in his eyes has shifted from something cold to something more contemplative.

"All Might," he says gravely.

"Yes?"

"Will I be able to become a hero if I don't like fighting?"

"My boy, none of the great heroes enjoy fighting," All Might says, "and the fighting is not what makes great heroes. Great heroes are great because they have strict morals and their desire to help others. And you, you have shown that you have both of those today. He stands up to his full height, puffing out his chest and smiling wide. "You are already on your first step to becoming a great pro without even trying."

Something seems to click in Kageyama's head as the tension in his posture eases. He hums. "Why make us fight each other then? If we're not supposed to like it?"

All Might hums, "It's for...for…real-world experience, I suppose." He gestures outward, spreading his arms. "The wider array of quirks that you encounter in battle, the easier time you'll have adapting to new ones as needed."

"So we'll have to keep doing this," Kageyama says flatly.

"Well, yes," All Might says. "But we'll ease into it."

"Do-Don't worry, Mob," Midoriya says, cutting in with a wobbly smile and teary eyes. "I have to work on getting stronger without my quirk, and if you have to practice getting used to fighting then you can help me right? So we'll practice together, alright?"

Kageyama stares at Midoriya for a few moments longer than necessary, then his lips quirk up. "I would like that."

Midoriya looks so enthused that his friend is talking to him again that he actually starts crying in earnest. All Might laughs and claps him hard on the back, Midoriya hiccuping with the hit.

All Might counts this moment as one crisis temporarily averted. "I will let you two have a few minutes to talk then!" he says, "But don't take too long! Class is already over and if you're home too late your parents will worry!"

The boys barely seem to notice him, which is all too handy in slipping out of the room unnoticed. Smoke drifts down the hallway as he transforms back into his skeletal self.

"Nice job," Recovery Girl tells him.

.-.-.

Everyone seems to want to talk to Izuku and Mob once they get back to the classroom. They are crowded in the doorway pretty much as soon as they open it, and Izuku can feel himself tensing from all the attention.

"You guys fight was so wild dude!" A boy with red, spiky hair says. "I'm Kirishima, it's nice to meetcha!"

"Your moves were so awesome!" says a pink girl who introduces herself as Ashido. "So awesome!"

"I'm Tsuyu Asui," says the frog girl in a voice that reminds Izuku of Mob. "You can call me Tsuyu."

Kacchan shoulders his way in front of the group, coming eye to eye with Izuku. They stare at each other for a moment before Kacchan huffs and pushes in between Mob and Izuku to get out the door.

Izuku stares after him as he saunters away. He turns to Mob, who is also watching Kacchan with that blank stare that Izuku can never read. Mob blinks, feeling the stare, and looks at Izuku.

"I'll be right back," Izuku says, and he's off before the other boy has a chance to say anything.

He doesn't catch up with Kacchan until they reach the courtyard. "Kacchan!" Izuku calls out, and the boy freezes like he had just been struck.

"What do you want Deku?" he growls, throwing a dirty look over his shoulder.

"Look!" Izuku says. He can feel himself starting to tremble again, that urge to be afraid so ingrained when it comes to Kacchan. "I'm not- I'm not going to be your punching bag anymore!"

"Ehh?" Kacchan turns to him fully and it's all Izuku can do to keep from tucking tail and running. He thinks of the cool level headed Mob. He thinks of Uraraka cheerfully reclaiming his nickname. He thinks of All Might's overwhelming strength. He tries to channel all of that into his words.

"Yeah, from now on I'm go-going to be the Deku who does his best! An-And I just wanted to tell you...that I haven't been tricking you. I got this power, from someone else." He waves his hands wildly in front of him. "I can't say who! It's just…"

He steels himself, feeling all the strength he has in him bubbling up into his vocal cords. "I'm going to make this power my own and then I'm going to overcome you with it."

Kacchan stares at him, gobsmacked. Izuku feels himself going red. He didn't mean to say the last bit, didn't expect that it to come out of him so calmly. It's the truth, but he had only meant to get as far as telling Kacchan that he wasn't tricking him.

"What the fuck are you on about Deku?" The air between them grows tense enough that Izuku takes a step back. "First Bowl for Brains and now you? What is with all you weaklings today? I mean what the hell?"

Kacchan clenches his fist so hard that Izuku can see them turning white from where he's standing. "You just keep, making a _fool _of me! Earning us some half-assed victory that you didn't even have to work for because your dweeby friend is too much of a fucking pacifist. And what's worse, is that I lost to him today!"

Kacchan throws out his hands, angry tears collecting in the corners of his eyes as he yells. "And that Icyhot bastard, I-I know I couldn't measure up to him either. Da-Damnit...Damnit!"

He points at Izuku so suddenly that Izuku squeaks. "Just know this Deku! I refuse to lose again, not to you, not to anybody!"

"Bakugou!" All Might says, rushing out of the school and leaving only dust behind him. He comes upon Bakugou, laying a hand on his shoulder. "You did great work today. It's nothing to be ashamed of-"

"Get off of me All Might," Kacchan says, warning in his voice.

All Might lets him go.

Kacchan starts walking away again but throws a glance back at All Might. "I'm going to become a hero who surpasses even you someday! Just you watch me!"

Izuku turns away, feeling eyes on the back of his neck and looks up towards the windows in front of his classroom. There he finds Ashido, Uraraka, and Mob staring down at him. Izuku meets Mob's eyes and nods.

Mob pauses and then nods back.

**To be continued…**

**Me, three months later with Starbucks(TM): Hello friends, I have an update.**

**In all seriousness though, I do apologize for the long wait times between these chapters, life keeps on getting in the way. Just know that I still love this fic with all of my wee little heart! It's always in the back of my brain somewhere, and I do have big massive plans for it. I hope you all really enjoy this chapter, I love love love writing action scenes and I hope it shows.**


	7. Foreign Questions I Can't Understand

**Neither me nor bunnyscribe own Mob Psycho 100 or My Hero Academia**

**Foreign Questions That I Can't Understand**

By: bunnyscribe (AO3)

Izuku finds his experiences at U.A. strange, to say the least.

For example, when he answers a question in class, he can feel eyes on him, but that's all there are. Just glances from respectful classmates, not judgemental stares for a boy deemed less than a person. And later, when he walks to the cafeteria, the other students in the hallway don't recognize him as someone to avoid. Some even smile at him.

But the weirdest thing of all-

"Oi, Deku! Mob!"

-is having friends.

Izuku glances over his shoulder at Mob, who has started dutifully following him around campus. He can't find it in himself to say it to him, but it's extremely comforting to have the other boy there. He's a strong, steady, almost silent presence that seems almost unfazed by anything. It compliments Izuku in a way he wouldn't have expected. And guessing by the way Mob has been trailing behind him, Izuku suspects Mob likes being with him as much as he likes being with Mob.

Izuku shoots Mob a smile, glancing back and forth between the table and him. Mob stares blankly back.

Izuku tries again. "Do you want to go sit with them again?"

Mob glances over at the cafeteria table where Uraraka, Sero, and Iida sit. Sero is sitting down with a wide grin, watching as Iida tries to convince Uraraka to get down from the chair she's standing on to flag them down.

"Of course," Mob says. "Why wouldn't we?"

"Just making sure," Izuku says smiling, reveling in the novelty of it all.

When they get over to the table, Iida is lecturing a bashful looking Uraraka about proper table etiquette. Meanwhile, Sero's leaning back in his chair, his feet sitting on the table, escaping Iida's notice for now.

"Hey guys," Izuku says. He hesitates before sitting down at one of the empty chairs, having another momentary pang of fear that everyone will stand up and leave the second that he sits down. It isn't like something like this hasn't happened before, people pretending to be his friends only to leave him or deciding that hanging out with him attracts too much negative attention.

Then Mob sits down, and that makes it a little easier for Izuku to follow his lead.

Uraraka turns to them, seeming glad to have the distraction. "Hey!" she says, ignoring Iida's sputtering. "We were wondering what was taking you guys so long!"

"We were looking around," Mob says.

"Ahh, I know. It's such a nice campus isn't it?" Uraraka says, throwing her arms up in her excitement. "It's the fanciest place I've ever been in my life!"

Mob nods. "Me too."

"Well," Iida says, after taking a moment to get himself together again. Izuku is finally starting to get used to how intense his stare is, though he's still a bit uncomfortable when it falls on him. "I'm glad you all are enjoying the campus so much, but our heroics class is after this. It's important to get the proper nutrition for whatever comes up next, and- Have your feet been on the table the entire time?!"

Sero snickers, "Was wondering when you'd notice.

Uraraka interrupts before Iida can get started on another rant. "So!" she looks towards Izuku. "How does it feel to be Mr. President?"

Izuku blushes, almost wishing the attention had just stayed on Iida and Sero instead.

Izuku was still having trouble believing in his new found position. Two other people besides himself have enough faith in him and believed he is competent enough to be class president. And just like that he is. It's a surreal feeling and leaves Izuku feeling a strange combination of embarrassed, excited, and ashamed. He had fooled people into thinking he was better than he was, and he's not quite sure how to feel about that.

He brings his hands halfway up in an aborted motion to cover his face. "A-Ah, we-well, it's...surprising I guess?" He looks at each of their faces individually, scanning for any sort of judgment. "I-I'm kinda nervous though, I don't know if I can handle it."

"You can do it," Mob and Uraraka say at the same time Iida says, "Worry not."

"Yeah, don't sweat it, man," Sero says, waving his doubts off. "You're so ridiculously earnest, almost makes me wish I voted for you instead of myself."

Uraraka starts immediately laughing, almost loud enough that it covers up the shocked noise that comes from Iida's throat. "Well, that answers that question I guess!" she says smacking her palms on the table. "And I'm gonna guess that...you were the other vote for Deku, right Mob?"

Mob looks up from his food. "Oh no," he says blandly. "I voted for Iida."

"It was you?!" Iida shouts with enough energy that he rockets right out of his seat. The rest of the table looks between the two of them.

Izuku can't help the vague pang of hurt that he feels in his chest. He had believed that Mob was one of those votes, however unfair that might've seemed. They had been friends months now and to know he wasn't the second vote stings.

"Oh," Uraraka says, looking baffled. "So you voted for Deku then Iida?"

"Of course," Iida says in a tone that suggests the fact should be obvious. He gestures, chopping the air with his hand. "While I desired the position, it was overwhelmingly clear to me that after his actions in both the entrance exam and the battle exercise that Midoriya as a more suitable candidate."

"Why'd you vote for Iida then, Mob?" Sero asks. "Would've thought for sure that Midoriya had your vote with how close you are."

Mob hums, bring his index finger to his chin and staring blankly at Iida while he considers the question. "He has glasses," is what he eventually settles on. Izuku blinks at him.

"His glasses?" the rest of the table asks in perfect sync.

Mob nods sagely. "His glasses look like the kind a class president would wear."

The answer is so ridiculous that Izuku immediately can't even find it in himself to be upset anymore. Everyone at the table looks at each other in varying degrees of surprise. Then Uraraka makes a noise like air hissing out of a balloon, and before Izuku knows it he's cackling alongside Sero and Uraraka.

"This isn't funny!" Iida says. "Voting for class president is a serious matter!"

Mob looks at them all and tilts his head, looking vaguely puzzled.

Uraraka reaches out, weakly grasping at Iida's coat. "Your face-Ohmygod-Your face!" she says before dissolving into giggles again.

"By the way," Sero says when the laughter dies down. "I've been meaning to ask you Iida, are you rich?"

Iida, who had been halfway into the motion of sitting back down, slips and hits the chair with a thud. "What brings on that question?" he asks, voice rising a pitch.

"Oh, I could see that,"Uraraka says. "The way you talk, it's like a rich kid! Ya'know with all the…" She wiggles in her seat, stiffening herself out and puffing her chest out. "'Worry not!' and the 'befitting of this great establishment'," she says in a terrible imitation of Iida's voice.

Iida sighs, "I don't like telling anyone this, but…"

Everyone at the table besides Mob leans a little forward.

"I am the second son of a famous family of heroes," he says, pushing his glasses up. He looks kind of proud to say it, a small smile forming on his face that Izuku has never seen before. "I am assuming you all know Ingenium, correct?"

"Yeah," Sero says, "that dude with all the sidekicks?"

"Right," Iida says with a small smile. "That is my brother."

"That's so cool!" Izuku says, beaming up at him. "Have you ever worked alongside him as an apprentice sidekick?"

Iida gives him an odd look, "No, of course not. That's illegal until I get my provisional license. The government would surely step in if my brother even attempted to allow such a thing."

Izuku suddenly feels a little lost. "Wait," he says, turning to Mob. "How do you work for Reigen then? If that's illegal?"

"Oh," Mob says. "That's easy." He takes another bite of his rice, before putting his chopsticks down. "My Master doesn't work for the government."

Izuku hesitates, his own chopsticks halfway up to his mouth. He can feel the atmosphere at the table change and glances around to see the reactions of the others. Uraraka and Sero both just look surprised, but Iida looks plain offended.

"How does he get paid then?" Sero asks slowly.

"He collects pay from clients," Mob says.

"That's not legal in the slightest!" Iida booms. "Why, that takes integrity away from the institution of heroes themselves. Heroism became a government-run job for this exact reason, no one should have to be charged to be protected!" He gestures angrily towards Mob, "Why would you even agree to work under such a man? Is he even a real hero?!"

Mob cocks his head. "My master is a real hero, he helps a lot of people." The words are almost said reflexively as if Mob has had to repeat them hundreds of times. He pauses after that, and Izuku, who has gotten slightly better at reading the other boy, can see him processing the rest of what Iida had said.

"Well, it doesn't seem-" Iida starts, but Izuku cuts him off with a wave of his hand.

"Ho-Hold on," he says. "Give him a second to think."

Mob blinks. He turns to Izuku and his lips quirk in a little half-smile that warms Izuku to the core for a reason he can't explain. Then the moment passes, Izuku left to deal with the confusing aftermath, and Mob turns back to Iida. "My master says that heroes don't get paid by the government in Spice City. I think it's too poor for that. My master first concern is helping people, the pay comes afterward. I don't know too much, I just help him." He hums. "Sorry I can't answer better."

"Mob's right," Izuku says, still a little dazed and accidentally interrupts whatever Iida was about to say next. "The city government cut all funding for heroes in the city, there's nothing left for them there unless they come in from cities surrounding it to help. I'm sure Reigen is more asking for donations than an actually pay."

Izuku had done more extensive research into Spice City since talking to Reigen about it and had actually found it was a rather sad story. It had been a rather big tourist attraction many years ago, boasting beautiful architecture, interesting attractions, and a wide array of innovative, upcoming chefs. Its popularity had risen too quickly however and this combination attracted many different types of villains. Before the city could hire more heroes, everyone with the funds to do so booked it from the city, taking any sort of revenue that would help the city pay for its protection with them. The city was then forced to declare bankruptcy and had been falling apart ever since then.

Izuku couldn't help but feel bad for the civilians who lived there. He could imagine why Mob had such admiration for Reigen if he had to grow up like that.

Iida looks a lot more solemn than he did previously. "I had not considered those kinds of factors," he says, bringing a hand up to cover his mouth and glaring at the table in thought. He looks up at Mob, "I'm sorry if I offended you."

"It's ok," Mob says. "I don't mind."

An alarm suddenly starts to screech.

.-.-.

There's not really any preamble to it. One morning Takenaka just shows up in front of Mob's gate as he and Ritsu are walking out. "My school's the stop after yours," Takenaka explains without greeting them. "It'd be a lot more awkward to keep meeting on the train by accident."

Takenaka looks expectant and Mob knows better than to say no to him.

After that, he has been standing outside when Mob leaves his house every morning, without fail. They walk to the train together, sit together, and ride back and forth together. They're usually a pretty silent duo, more than content to just enjoy each other's company with no more than the occasional chatter.

"So what even goes on in hero school?" Takenaka asks as they're headed home that day, leaning forward and resting more on his knees. "Is it even like, school? Do you do anything normal?"

Mob thinks about it. "We voted for class president today," he tells him because that seems normal enough. "It was Midoriya, but now it's Iida."

"Why such a quick change?" Takenaka asks, raising an eyebrow.

"There was a break in. Iida handled it very well so Midoriya gave him the position."

There's a prolonged silence, long enough that even Mob has a chance to notice it. He glances over towards Takenaka and finds the other boy staring at him with his face screwed up.

Takenaka brings up a hand to pinch the bridge of his nose and sighs. "You give me such a headache. Do you even know how you sound most of the time?"

Mob stares at him, trying to puzzle out what he's missed. He can't. "Sorry," he says. "Did I say something wrong?"

"No, you didn't," Takenaka says. "You're just real oblivious as per usual." He throws his head back, hand falling down to his lap. He glances at Mob out of the corner of his eye. "Wanna explain how someone broke into your heavily guarded, extremely protected high school full of pro heroes?"

"I don't know," Mob says. "I know it was the press that got in. The gate was destroyed but I don't know how."

"They didn't tell you?"

"No."

"Is anyone at least investigating it?"

"I don't know."

Takenaka groans. "God," he says, voice exhausted. "I hate rich people."

"Ahh," Mob says. "Is it really the fact that they're rich though? Or just not very helpful?"

Takenaka blinks, turning towards him. Mob's lips quirk up into a polite smile that makes Takenaka laugh. He counts it as a victory.

"You haven't told me about your classes though," Mob says. The train hits a bump, lurching everyone to the right. "How is your school going?"

Takenaka pauses, looking contemplatively down to at his feet. Mob gives him a few moments to get his thoughts together. "It's going pretty good so far," he says finally. "No one ever told me becoming a psychiatrist was going to be as hard as it, especially with a quirk like mine that has the potential to break so many patient-doctor confidentiality laws."

"You should talk to my master," Mob says. "He knows all about the law."

Takenaka scoffs. "We'll see about that."

The train rolls up to their stop a few minutes later, the few passengers that actually live in Inner Spice City exiting out of it in different amounts of hurry. Mob and Takenaka walk side by side in silence out of it and up the street, just like they normally do, but at the place where they're supposed to separate, Takenaka keeps walking with him.

"Are you not going home?" Mob asks him.

"Nah," Takenaka says. "I'm gonna make sure you get home first."

"I know where I live though," Mob says, completely straight-faced.

Takenaka throws him a sharp look before realizing that he's not serious. He huffs out a laugh, elbowing Mob in the side. "You really are ridiculous, you know that?"

Conversation dies off again until Mob's house comes in to view. Mob blinks. Ritsu is standing out front of the gate, pacing back and forth on the sidewalk. His hand is up against his mouth and he does a double take when he sees Mob.

"Shige!" he calls, rushing to meet them halfway. His hands land on Mob's shoulders first, and then suddenly he's patting him down as if to check for something. Mob thinks about his wallet sitting in his back pocket. "Are you ok?" Ritsu asks.

Mob's chest starts to feel funny, emotions that aren't his crawling down under the layers of separation from his own feelings.

"He's fine, Ritsu," Takenaka says, his arms crossed and posture slightly tensed. "Calm down, you know no one was hurt. I know you've been watching the news."

Ritsu's eyes narrow as he looks at Takenaka. "Stay out of my head."

Takenaka glares right back, "Stop projecting your feelings on me."

Ritsu opens his mouth to say something else that isn't nice, so Mob interrupts him. "I'm fine Ritsu," he says. "Nothing happened."

Ritsu turns back to Mob and his face softens. "You're sure your ok?" he asks.

"He's checking to make sure it didn't stress you out," Takenaka chimes in. Ritsu whirls on him and Takenaka raises his hands up placatingly. "Hey, just because I can read your mind doesn't mean Mob can."

"It's ok Ritsu, Takenaka's just trying to help," Mob says. He awkwardly reaches out to pat Ritsu's shoulder, trying to imitate that same comforting gesture that Midoriya did. Ritsu looks at him wide-eyed. "There were plenty of pro heroes there to protect us."

"Yeah," Ritsu says, hesitating. He's looking at Mob's hand. "I guess you're right."

"Relax," Takenaka says to Ritsu. "Or you're gonna give your eighty-year-old neighbor a heart attack with the amount of nerves radiating off of you. Mob said it's fine, so it's fine."

"Oh Ritsu," Mob says, tilting his head, "is your quirk acting up again?"

Ritsu jumps, startling Mob. "No!" he says defensively. He looks down at his feet. "No," he says again, voice softer. "I'm fine brother."

Takenaka hums.

"Shut up," Ritsu tells him. "You don't know what you're talking about."

"Oh, I think I do," Takenaka says. "I can read angsty middle schoolers pretty well even without my quirk, given that I was one."

Ritsu glares at him. "I am not an angsty middle schooler."

Takenaka scoffs at him, then leans back and raises an eyebrow. "Have you heard yourself think recently?"

"Takenaka, don't tease Ritsu please," Mob says. "And Ritsu, please don't be mean to Takenaka."

Takenaka and Ritsu glare at each other for a second more before reluctantly looking at Mob. "Fine," they say at the same time.

Ritsu throws one last dirty look at Takenaka. "We should probably get inside Shige," he says. "I promised to help you with your homework, remember?"

"Oh, yes I remember," Mob says. He turns to Takenaka. "Thank you for walking me home."

"No problem," Takenaka says. He smiles, but it seems off. "See you tomorrow Mob." He stands rooted to the spot, all the way until Mob enters the house.

.-.-.

"We're going on a field trip," Aizawa says, pressing a button on a remote that pulls out a wall full of storage bins for their hero costumes. "We'll be working on training for rescue missions today."

The rest of the students start changing into their costumes including Izuku. He debates in for a bit but leaves the bunny mask behind since Aizawa said some of their costumes could get in the way of the exercises. He practically out of his skin with excitement, chattering at Mob as he pulls on his suit.

Iida lines them up, attempting to get them onto the bus in an orderly fashion, but all his efforts fall apart when the bus isn't set up in the way that he expects it to be. He looks so dejected that Izuku can't help but feel a bit bad for him, giving him a small pat on his back as he passes by him to get into his seat.

With Tsuyu to his left and Mob to his right, Izuku feels a bit like he's protected from the jubilant comradery by a wall of stoicism. The two are pretty quiet compared to everyone else chattering amongst themselves and Izuku finds the silence pretty comforting at this point.

"Midoriya," Tsuyu says suddenly, startling him.

"Ye-Yeah Asui?"

"Call me Tsuyu," she corrects immediately. "And I just wanted to let you know that I generally say what's on my mind."

"Yeah?"

"And I just wanted to say that your quirk resembles All Might's."

Now Izuku's really startled. "You thi-think so?" He tries to stumble through the words, hoping he doesn't sound half as suspicious as he feels. "I mean, I-I really don't think I could…" He can feel Mob's eyes on the back of his head, that normally calming stare suddenly feels like it's running right through him.

"Hey wait a minute Tsuyu!" Kirishima says. "All Might's quirk doesn't really wreck his body like Midoriya's does, there that difference. I wish I had that kind of strength though." He lifts up his arm and it hardens, looking like solid chunks of rock meshed together. "My quirk is good for the defensive but not much else."

Mob hums. "It's not good to be just strong," he chimes in suddenly, sounding like he's reading something of off a script. "Not if it gets you or other people hurt." Something in Izuku's chest pangs at the words. He looks down at his hands. His fingers are fixed now, but he can still remember the sharp ache that the breaking of his bones left. Mob pauses, seeming totally obvious to the sullen mood that Izuku has fallen into. "I think a quirk like yours is important, Kirishima. You shouldn't downplay it."

"Ye-Yeah," Izuku says, trying to brush off any bad feelings rolling around inside of him. "Mob's right! That kind of quirk is more than strong enough if you want to go pro."

"If you want to see real strength though," Sero says, finger against his cheek. "I'd honestly say you gotta look at Mob." He tilts his head more. "Maybe Todoroki and Bakugou too? But I definitely think Mob could take both of them in a heartbeat after what to that robot in the entrance exam."

All the attention on the bus turns to Mob, who in turn starts to sweat. "Yeah, what was that about anyway?" Ashido asks. "You got the highest score from what Aizawa said, right? How'd you do that?"

"I destroyed the robots," Mob says bluntly.

"Well, yeah, duh," Ashido says, rolling her eyes. "But it was your rescue points that put you over the top right? How'd you get all of those, huh?"

"I-" Mob looks down at his feet. Izuku kind of feels bad for Mob being thrown under the bus like this, but doesn't interrupt. His classmates are seeking answers to questions he's been asking himself for a while now, but has been to reluctant to ask. "I helped Sero and stopped the zero pointer," Mob finally says.

"More like put a gaping hole straight through the zero pointer, you mean," Sero says.

Mob looks up at him carefully. "You were in trouble," is all he says.

Sero deflates a little bit. "Hey man, I'm grateful to you for doing that don't get me wrong," he says. "I just don't think you should be downplaying your own power. What you did was really cool."

Bakugou scoffs from where he's sitting. "It doesn't matter what kind of power he had in the entrance exam if he refuses to use it now."

"Hey," Sero says, looking up at Bakugou sharply. "Leave him alone man, he uses it when he needs to."

"Tch," Bakugou huffs.

"Bakugou could never be powerful and popular though," Tsuyu says. "He's too brash."

"What did you just say about me frog-face?" Bakugou says, shooting up from his seat.

"See?" Tsuyu says.

Izuku watches in awe as Bakugou gets teased by their classmates. At first, he thinks they're bullying him. After a few months of friendship with Mob and the developing relationship he has with Sero, he's started to be more aware of what counts as a good-natured ribbing or not. It's just that he never thought he'd see Bakugou on the other end of it, raging like he normally does but with not as much bite behind it.

The bus jostles and his hand brushes against Mob's, reminding him of the other boy's presence. He turns to him and finds him staring at Bakugou, the same that Izuku was. His expression is unreadable.

"Hey," Izuku says. Mob turns to him, slowly taking his eyes off of Bakugou. "Are you ok?"

"Yes," Mob says. "I'm fine."

.-.-.

The facility that they arrive at is ginormous, filled with different areas representing every different type of disaster available. It makes Mob think of the half-finished amusement park in Spice City, forever under construction and now home to gangsters and low-level criminals. He wonders how much both facilities cost comparatively.

He must be zoning out because Uraraka taps him on the shoulder. He turns to her, but she's looking elsewhere. "Moobb," she hisses, grabbing onto his wrist. He feels the contact up through his arm, warm but no longer as uncomfortable as it was. "Look! It's Thirteen!"

Mob looks up and finds a person dressed head to toe in a large space suit. The only thing that doesn't quite match their look is the bright yellow shoes they wear on their feet. Their fingers are covered by tiny little metal caps that remind Mob of the thimbles his mother wears when she used to sew patches on his clothes.

"Who's that?" Mob asks.

"What?" Uraraka gasps. "You don't know Thirteen? I thought you would love Thirteen!"

Mob reaches up, tugging on the collar of his shirt. His cheeks turn pink. "Are they a pro-hero?"

"Thirteen is only one of the best rescue heroes around!" Midoriya chimes in, turning around to look at them. His arms are pulled up to his chest in his excitement, like a tightly coiled spring ready to burst. Mob almost thinks that he should sit down with how close he looks to passing out. "They've saved hundreds of lives in incidents involving heavy amounts of debris since their quirk is so good at clearing it out quickly. A lot of people have Thirteen to thank for how quickly medical care has gotten to them after landslides, building collapses, and villain attacks. They're super cool!"

"It seems like you've done your research," Thirteen says, coming to stand in front of the crowd of students. Their voice is airy and robotic which makes for a rather strange combination. "Yes, it seems quite a few of you are aware of my quirk, Black Hole. It can suck in and tear anything about, and I've honed it to be able to help people. However, my power could easily kill or maim others. I imagine many of you have similar types of quirks."

A hush suddenly falls over the class, tense like a taut wire. Mob leans in with rapt attention.

"We mustn't forget that it only takes one wrong move with an uncontrollable quirk for someone to die. You have already come to learn your limits with Aizawa and the dangers of your quirk with All Might, but this is to show you a whole new perspective! You will learn how to use your quirk to save others. Your quirks are not meant to inflict harm and I hope you leave today with a better understanding of that you're meant to help others."

Mob feels pressure rolling around in his gut, but rather than the usual oppressive feeling it gives, it feels like something light. A feather rather than a steel ball. He raises his hand.

"Ahh?" Thirteen says, sounding a bit surprised. "Yes?"

"Can someone be a hero only to rescue others?"

"Ahh, well," Thirteen hums. He starts rubbing at the back of his helmet. "I think...I think…"

"That's not feasible," Aizawa says, cutting in. He crosses his arms. "Sometimes to win the rescue, one has to win the fight first." Mob feels himself sag and Aizawa, in turn, gives him a sharp look that he can't place. "Now then…" Aizawa says, turning towards the plaza.

There's a sudden sound like static that brushes up from the plaza, followed by a dry woosh. The pressure inside Mob starts to push down on his insides again, growing heavier for a reason he can't explain. A gate appears in the middle of the plaza, black tendrils of smoke rising out of it.

A hand stretches out of the gate, followed by a massive group of people all sporting a wide arrange of different quirks and appearances. Their voice began to chatter loudly amongst each other, breaking the shocked silence of the class.

"Thirteen," Aizawa says, voice vaguely tinted with some kind of emotion. "Get the students out of here." And then he's off, leaping into the crowd of people with his capture weapons raised.

Mob stares blankly down as Aizawa begins fighting off all of the villains, moving so quickly that he is almost a blur. A final man exits the wispy gate, his body covered in grasping hands, followed by a creature so horrific that Mob can't even tell what it is.

"Where...is All Might?" the hand man calls. "We've checked, he's supposed to be here...Did we come all this way for nothing?..." The man hums, cocking his head. "I suppose we can take out some hero hopefuls on the way out."

Something tugs on Mob's hand, Mob turns. Ojiro is there, a student he's hardly interacted with. "You can't space out," he says. "We have to leave."

Mob looks out towards the plaza and finds the gate has disappeared. The static sounds out from behind him and he finds the gate blocking the door. It's then that he realizes the gate is not just a gate, but a person.

"Forgive the rather rude entrance," the man says, the thick smog flickering around him. "We are the League of Villains. Today we have come to U.A. high school, the peak of heroic education, in order to kill the symbol of peace."

Mob can hardly believe his ears. Before he has any other time to react, Bakugou and Kirishima are launching themselves at the gate. They disappear into it.

"I'm sorry," the man says. "But I cannot allow you to escape and seek help."

The gate stretches out, wrapping around them.

And before Mob knows it, he's opening his eyes somewhere else.

**To be continued…**

**This chapter is sponsored by a beautiful that I received. Please go look at it, it's honestly so well done and I cry everytime I see it ;u; It honestly kicked my butt into gear so hard that I finished this chapter in like a day. Well, that and my cat who woke me up at 4 AM, but that's an entirely different kind of motivator.**

**So we've reached the USJ arc finally! :D I've been super hype for it, so I hope you guys enjoy what's next to come!**


	8. Marching Funeral in an Apocalypse

**Disclaimer: neither I or bunnscribe owns Mob or MHA**

**Marching Funeral in an Apocalypse**

By: bunnyscribe (AO3)

Also, I got some wonderful fanart of Mob's costume so go check that out before you read here!

Izuku hits the water and the whole world turns topsy-turvy, coated in bubbles from the breath he lost the second he hit the water. He gags, tries to determine which way is up. He spins around until he meets eyes with a shark-man and feels his stomach drop. The shark-man grins at him, wide and ferocious.

"Hey kid," the man says, "this is nothing personal."

And then Tsuyu kicks him in the face, descending like an angel from heaven with the speed of a torpedo. Izuku's vision is starting to go spotty, but he hears Tsuyu call his name, feels her tongue wrap around his body and propel him up through the water.

He hits the deck of the boat with a loud thwack.

"Hey man, are you ok?"

Izuku takes a second to reorient himself, blinking the remnants of water out of his eyes. "Sero?" he slurs, bringing an arm to cover his face when the world gets a bit too bright. "What are you doing here?"

"Hey," Sero says, pulling at Izuku's arm to help him sit up. Sero's face comes into view. He looks worried for a reason Izuku can't place immediately. "Come on now. I know you probably sucked in a lot of seawater, but now is probably not a good time to pass out."

"Actually the lake is entirely freshwater," Tsuyu's voice says.

Izuku giggles a bit hysterically despite himself.

"Yeah, yeah," Sero says with a grin as he brushes her off. He turns, looking over the rails, and his face hardens. "So," he says, "Anyone got any bright ideas on how to get out of this one?"

Izuku follows his eyes to the water and spies quite a few heads sticking out above it, all people older than they are with a wide arrangement of water-based quirks. They're waiting, only semi-patiently, for the kids to make the next move.

"Shouldn't we wait for All Might? Though they did say they were trying to kill them, didn't they?" Sero says, crossing his arms. "Do ya think they could actually do something like that?"

Tsuyu brings up a finger to her mouth. "They must have figured out a way," she says after a moment. "Why would they come here just to get beaten?"

"Yeah, but." Sero looks uncomfortable with the idea. "It's All Might, nobody can beat All Might."

"I wouldn't put it past them to try though," Tsuyu says bluntly. "They promised to kill us off too, remember? Who's to say we can even hold off here till he gets here? Who says he won't get killed?"

Izuku thinks of the gaping wound in All Might's side, thinks about his missing stomach. No one has beaten All Might yet, but people have gotten close. "But why would they want to kill him though?" he mumbles to himself. "Because he stands against evil? Because they call him the Symbol of Peace?" Does it really matter? he thinks.

"I mean-"

"That's not something we can risk," Izuku says as he comes to the decision, interrupting Sero. "If they have something to kill off All Might, then we have to stop them before he gets here." He tries to mask his shaking hands by curling them into fist.

It doesn't work by the way the Sero's gaze immediately goes down to them. His face steels. "Alright Midoriya," he says. "I'm following your lead."

"Same here," Tsuyu croaks.

Izuku doesn't have time to dwell on the fact that he's been voted the leader of their escape as the boat gets cracked straight in half. "Ok," he says, taking a deep breath. "Ok, judging by the fact that they dropped Tsuyu here, that means they don't know about our quirks." He pauses.

"And that means?" Sero prompts with a wave of his hand.

"That means while they overwhelm us in experience and numbers," he knocks his fist into his palm, "we can exploit the fact that they don't know our quirks."

It takes less than a minute to hash out the plan because that's all they have. Then Izuku is leaping off the boat. "Go to hell!" he yells, trying to imitate Kacchan to ease the fear inside of him.

Then, in the same move he used to blast the wall open during battle training, he destroys his finger, aiming it towards the water.

The water dispels and then comes together with the force of the blow, dragging all the villains upwards with it. Sero wraps his tape around the villains when they're all pushed together, he moves quickly to toss them out of the flood zone and onto land.

Izuku goes flailing back towards the water. For a second he fears he's going to smack against it this time and break a few extra bones for his trouble, but Tsuyu's tongue wraps around him and suddenly his feet are hitting land.

"Thank you," he tells her earnestly, breath coming raspily as he clutches his broken finger.

"Of course," Tsuyu says, tilting her head. "You're my friend." Izuku feels his cheeks start to burn at the words and without trying to he starts to smile.

"So what should we do now?" Sero asks.

"Right," Izuku says, turning towards the plaza. "Right," he says again. He pauses. "Aizawa is getting overwhelmed, isn't he? He jumped in to help us, but crowd fights aren't his specialty."

"Midoriya," Sero says, hand coming to rest on his hip. The look he gives him is very stern fatherly like. "You're not saying what I think you're saying."

"I'm not saying we just rush into a fight," Izuku says quickly, waving his hands back and forth dismissively. "I'm just saying we see where we can step in and lighten his load."

This almost immediately turns out to be a grave mistake, as they stand a few minutes later and watch Aizawa's arm get snapped by a creature of unimaginable power. The warp gate appears next a man covered in disembodied hands, the black smog almost obscuring both of them. "Shigaraki," the smoke says in a deep, rumbling voice.

"Ahh," Shigaraki says. "Kurogiri." He reaches up to scratch his neck. "Did you manage to kill Thirteen?"

"No," Kurogiri says. "He's incapacitated, but one of the students managed to escape in the process."

Shigaraki begins scratching his neck in earnest now, leaving tiny claw marks in his wake. "Huh...Huhh..." he breathes. "You know, I'd kill you if I had the chance." His spins towards Kurogiri so he's facing him. "We won't be able to manage against a dozen of pros. I guess it's game over then, game over for now."

"They're leaving?" Sero whispers.

"But first," Shigaraki says, his eyes catching Izuku's. "Let's wound All Might's pride by killing some kids." He springs towards them and Izuku only has time to turn his head before all five fingers land on Tsuyu's face.

Nothing happens.

"Hun," Shigaraki huffs. "That was cool Eraserhead," he says, fingers still posed over Tsuyu's face. Izuku sees Aizawa's eyes, glowing red as his head is being pulled back by the Nomu.

Izuku rears his fist back. "Get off of her!" he shouts at Shigaraki.

The Nomu slams Aizawa's head into the concrete, once, twice, and then the roof of the Conflagration Zone is blown off.

.-.-.

Mob opens his eyes to a world of fire and brimstone. It looks like a scene straight from his nightmares, and he dizzily checks to see if he's still awake.

_Thirty-nine._

When he pinches himself, he feels it. He does not open his eyes to his bedroom when he blinks. His feet do not move when he asks them to.

_Forty-two._

He brings up his hands to stare at them. He looks for evidence on his fingertips linking him to blazing buildings surrounding him. He doesn't see any, but there isn't usually anything to find anyway. His hands shake.

_Fifty-one._

Pressure coils around his insides, sitting atop all his organs and pushing them down towards his feet. He tries to take a deep breath like Takenaka and Reigen taught him, but only gets a lungful of ash for all his trouble.

_Fifty-eight._

"Kageyama?" says a voice to his right.

Mob turns so quickly that the act of it makes him feel vaguely lightheaded. He clutches his hands into fists, curls them against his chest. He is met with the sight of a very sweaty Ojiro, looking at him with something Mob can't place.

Something of his internal struggle must show on Mob's face because Ojiro's expression immediately shifts. His eyes widen and he lifts his hands up in an appeasing motion. His tail shakes in a way that reminds Mob of a rattle. "Kageyama," he says again, but with more hesitation. "Are you ok?"

_Sixty-six._

Mob looks back down at his shaking fists to avoid Ojiro's eyes. "No," he says eventually. "I'm not."

There's no time for Ojiro to respond to that, as a fiery burst of air hits right in between the two of them. It leaves the ground splintered, tiny embers flickering amid the cracks.

Mob looks up and leaps backward, barely avoiding another fire blast. The heat brushes over his face and his shoulder stings with the ghost of a previous burn.

He looks up again and finds the assailant. She is an adult, later twenties at the very least. She has cropped hair and gigantic wings, cover in shiny ivory scales that sparkle and reflect the orange from the fires. The forked tongue hanging out from between her lips reminds Mob of Tsuyu. The comparison makes him uncomfortable.

_Seventy-four._

"Uh, Kageyama?" Ojiro says, walking back towards him. His body is tense, fist balled as he slips into a fighting position. "We've got company."

Mob glances down the burning alleys to find shadowy figures approaching them, blurred by all the soot in the air. All of them seem to boast quirks that deal in fire, whether it be that they're resistant to it or working with it.

Mob steps back himself and bumps in Ojiro. They meet eyes. Ojiro's wild-eyed and tense in a way Mob's never seen in training with him before.

It makes Mob think of Aizawa's words for some reason, of winning the rescue by winning the fight. His insides twist, forcing pressure back up into his chest.

His hair starts billowing upwards.

_Seventy-eight_.

He stretches out a hand.

_Seventy-nine._

And he catches a fireball that's blown directly at them from above.

_Eighty._

Mob stares at the glowing ball for what feels like minutes. His hand is in his line of sight as well, glowing that same hazy purple that coats the fireball itself. He's not sure where to go from here.

He looks over to Ojiro for guidance, only to find him in hand to hand combat with another villain. Mob's hand twitches at the sight and the fireball wavers.

"Hey, kids! Get ready!" a voice suddenly shouts from behind them. "I've been looking forward to this for a while now!"

Mob turns around to find a balding man with a large gut. That's all he has time to process before the man explodes fire out of his hands. Mob drops the barrier surrounding the fireball and instinctively draws it around him and Ojiro instead.

The villain Ojiro was fighting notices this too late, crashes into the barrier and falls down. He doesn't get back up.

"Thanks," Ojiro says, out of breath.

The man continues to surround them with fire, his hands falling apart like molten lava. The inside of the barrier is getting hot. The other villains are getting closer. "Can't keep that up forever," the man says.

"He's right," Ojiro says.

"What do I d-do?" Mob asks, voice cracking on the last word. "I don't know what to do."

"Hey," Ojiro says, resting a hand on Mob's shoulder. Mob flinches, but the hand stays. "Stay calm, we'll get out of this. Somehow."

Mob does not find this comforting. Pressure moves to his chest, crushing it, making it hard to breathe.

_Eighty-six._

Ojiro drops his hand. His face twists up in contemplation. "Kageyama," he says. "Can you surround that guy with a barrier?"

"Yes," Mob says. "Couldn't that hurt him though?"

Ojiro gives him that look, the one that says something crucial has flown over his head. "They're trying to kill us. I don't think that matters too much."

Mob opens his mouth to speak. A flaming spear embeds itself in Mob's barrier, startling the both of them. Ojiro gets back into his fighting stance. "Do it, Kageyama, you have to. I'll handle these guys, but you need to lower the barrier first. You're the only one who can save us."

_Eighty-eight._

Mob hesitates still. He bites his lip. His hands are shaking so hard that he can feel the vibrations through the rest of his body. This isn't right, he knows that his master taught him that. But his master isn't here right now. If he doesn't win, he can't rescue Ojiro. There are no adults here to help now.

He closes his eyes and shifts the barrier.

The man starts to scream.

Mob's knees give out on him at the same moment that Ojiro darts towards the other villains. He can feel tears dripping down his face. He hurt a person with his quirk again, he failed to never hurt a person with his quirk again. Warmth trails down his cheeks in the tears wake, the air so hot it evaporates them.

_Ninety-five._

He drops the barrier and the man stumbles over, covered in blistering wounds. The pressure in his chest is becoming overwhelming. He gasps for air, unable to focus on anything else but the man's body, lying amid the burning wreckage.

_Ninety-seven._

"Kageyama! Watch out!" Ojiro calls out. After a moment, when Mob can turn his head, he finds Ojiro staring at him despite fighting off villains at the same time. "Above you!"

Mob looks up. A rock, nearly a quarter of the size of the one that struck Sero, is falling towards him.

_Ninety-eight._

Mob's the only one who can save himself now. Ojiro's still too busy defending himself from an overwhelming amount of villains. Only Mob can save himself now and that hardly seems fair, but for now, it's the only hope he has.

_Ninety-nine._

He frantically lifts up a hand to stop the rock, heart stuttering in his chest. It slows to a stop, enveloped in purple. He stares up at it, hair ruffling above him, fingers dyed that same purple hue.

Mob thinks he's afraid, more afraid than he's been in a very long time.

When he finally manages to tear his eyes away from the rock, he finds that Ojiro has managed to disarm all the villains that had surrounded him with no help. His chest is heaving, fist clenched as he stands over top of one of his fallen opponents. He glances up at Mob, and does a wide-eyed double take.

He takes a step towards Mob, hand reaching out. "Behind you!" he shouts.

_One hundred per-_

Mob feels the blow against the right side of his head before he can react. He feels nothing more for a long while after that.

.-.-.

When the Conflagration Zone explodes, it hails down fire and ash that dances on top of the plaza before being slowly going out. The villains have stopped, the Nomu is paused where it stands with its giant fist still holding onto Aizawa's head against the concrete. Shigaraki has pulled back his hand from Tsuyu's face and turned to look, impassively watching the flames rain down. Izuku's arm is still raised and poised for a punch.

Izuku is filled with dread. Whatever's caused the villains to look as confused as they do can't be good.

"Shigaraki," says Kurogiri, the shadowy wisps that surround him flickering nervously. "I think that is our cue to leave now."

Shigaraki starts scratching at his neck again, fingers racking up and down it over and over. "No," he says. "That could be All Might, arriving ahead of all the pros. It would be just like him to make a thematic entrance like that. There's still time to win this if we wait." He turns to Izuku, who has started lowering his arm. "You got lucky this time."

Izuku's brain starts working a mile a minute. If All Might's out of time, why would he come? Why wouldn't leave it to the other heroes? Even he might have trouble holding his own against three villains with whatever limited time he has left. No, Izuku can't let All Might face off against all three of them at once. He can't eliminate the Nomu though, which leaves the other two. Shigaraki's closest. He balls his fist again and raises his arm.

A lone figure approaching on the horizon, however, gives him pause. Not nearly big enough to be All Might, the figure staggers towards them as though it's having a hard time walking. It continually slips in and out of focus, glowing lines of energy billowing powerfully above it. As it approaches, it gains more and more clarity, until Izuku realizes in utter shock who exactly it is.

"Mob?" he asks quietly. He feels Sero tense beside him.

"What the hell-" Shigaraki says- "is that thing."

Mob stops at the edge of the plaza and it lets Izuku get a better look at him. His eyes are a milky white, glowing brightly. His hair and clothes are floating upwards, blowing back and forth as though a strong wind was blowing underneath him. He looks unfocused, unseeing, blood drips down the side of his forehead.

Izuku feels scared for a moment and then he doesn't. The sudden shift leaves him feeling dizzy. He can't place why it happened for a moment until he sees thin white lines connecting Mob to everyone standing in the plaza.

He's absorbing their energy, Izuku realizes.

The glowing lines rising above Mob shine even brighter. His head lolls downward as though he was too out of it to keep it upright. He raises up his hand, the energy starts to accumulate around it.

Shigaraki screeches indignantly as he's picked up, flailing in the air as he's surrounded by the same glowing white that Mob is. Mob throws his hand back and Shigaraki goes flying into Kurogiri. Kurogiri shrinks down into something more person shaped and goes stumbling backward.

"Nomu!" Shigaraki yells. "Kill him!"

"No!" Izuku screams, reaching out towards Mob. His legs start flashing with little bolts of green and he doesn't know what he'll do but two broken is worth it if he can just save Mob.

The Nomu launches itself towards Mob so quickly it becomes a blur. It appears again a few feet in front of him, coated in a thin sheet of milky white. Its body shakes like it's trying to push forward but it's being held back. Like an unstoppable force meeting an immovable object.

Mob waves his hand and tears the arm of the creature straight off.

The Nomu screams inhumanly, it's arm starting to regenerate as quickly as it was torn apart. It pushes forward, steps slow and deliberate. It raises its arm and punches Mob clear across the facility.

Izuku faintly hears Sero hissing curses over his heart racing in his ears. Could Mob even survive a hit from something that broke Aizawa so mercilessly? He doesn't have time to start panicking in earnest though, as a hand starts tugging at his arm. Izuku turns to stare dumbly at Tsuyu.

Tsuyu studies him for a moment, seemingly making sure that she has his attention, and then nods in the direction of the plaza. "Look," she says.

Izuku looks and finds only the battered body of his teacher and two villains, scrambling over each other in an attempt to get up. "Wh-What?"

"Mob gave us an opening," she says with a ribbit. "It would be ignorant of us not to take it."

The words jolt Izuku back into reality, everything clicking back into place with a newfound clarity. "Ri-Right. You're right," he says. He glances from the plaza to the stairs in the distance. His brain kicks back into gear, trying to figure out how to get them and Aizawa out safely.

Shigaraki and Kurogiri are both standing now, looking off into the distance at something Izuku can't see from the angle he's at. There's an explosion of sound and Izuku winces.

"We have to get Aizawa out of here first," Izuku mumbles. "We have extremely limited options, anything we do will attract the attention of the villains. Sero or Tsuyu could grab him pretty easily from a distance, but there's no telling how that would affect Aizawa's injuries…No, we need to distract the villains first, but we can't touch either of them, so how could we…" he trails off, eyes traveling over to Sero. "Does it hurt you when anything happens to your tape?"

Sero looks at him oddly, tension clear on his face. "Like when it gets ripped and stuff?" he asks. "No, I can't feel anything. It's not a part of my body, I just make it, like, uh, well you know."

"Could you use it as a web? To hold someone down for a few seconds?"

Sero glances at the villains and then back at Izuku. He grins. "Yeah, I think I get what you're saying," he says, nodding. "Alright, give me a second."

Sero stretches his arms and stands up, elbows at the ready. He inches up closer to the villains who seem oblivious to his presence. Shigaraki is scratching at his neck again.

"Why does a brat like that have so much exp?" Shigaraki asks. "This was supposed to be a fight for All Might." The Nomu screams again.

"I do not know," Kurogiri says, the smoke around him flickers. "However, I believe it'd be best to leave while the boy is still busy with the Nomu."

Shigaraki breathes shakily, the scratching gets more intense. "It's not fair," he says. "It's not fair...it's not fair, it's not fair! He was supposed to be here!"

Then both of them get drowned in tape, wrapping around them and sticking them to the floor. Shigaraki screeches. "All right!" Sero says. "I can't believe that worked!"

Izuku starts rushing over to Aizawa, Tsuyu hot on his heels. "Help me get him on my back," Izuku tells her, squatting down. When he's positioned, they start to move again, all three of them moving towards the stairs.

"Well, this isn't good…" Shigaraki says. "It wouldn't do to be shown up by some students, would it?" He grabs the tape and it disintegrates beneath his fingers. "Come back, come back," he says. "You disgusting brats."

The entrance to USJ is ripped open, the doors practically falling apart under the amount of force used. A grim-faced All Might steps inside. Izuku stumbles over himself at the sight, Aizawa sliding down his back when his grip loosens. He's never seen All Might not smiling in this form, not through all his years of research.

"Fear not!" he says, voice echoing across the entire facility. "I am here!"

"Ahh," Shigaraki says, voice pitching up from excitement. He pulls off the last piece of tape from himself. "I've been waiting for you, you worthless trash."

All Might rushes towards them so quickly that he becomes nothing more than a blur. He knocks down several low ranking villains along the way, clearing the path to the stairs. He puts his body in front of them, blocking Izuku from even seeing the Shigaraki and Kurogiri.

"Get out of here!" All Might tells them "I've got this!"

"All Mi-Might," Izuku says. The shock of seeing his mentor kicks itself out of his head, replaced immediately by a reminder. "Mob! You have to help Mob! He's fighting the brain villain all on his own!"

As if on cue, the Nomu comes sailing through the sky, crashing into the central plaza and leaving a spider web of giant, splintering cracks in the ground beneath it. Mob swoops in from above, carried by a wave of white energy that trails behind him.

He looks worse than he did when Izuku saw him last. His head, where there had been a solid trail of blood before, is now coated in a thick red. His left arm is bent at an unnatural angle, hanging limply down by his side. He doesn't even seem to notice it, lifting up his hand and pressing the Nomu further down into the concrete.

Izuku can feel All Might's surprise and knows he's wondering the same thing that Izuku is. What caused this? Mob seemed to have an aversion to violence during the battle training exercise and the quirk apprehension test, so why is he fighting so viciously now?

Izuku has a theory, but even he doesn't like it. "All Might," he says it anyway, "I don't think he's aware of what he's doing."

All Might looks down at Izuku and then back up at Mob. "Young Kageyama!" he calls. "It is alright now, you can stop! I am here!"

The unconscious Mob hesitates for a second, lifting his hold of the creature. And in that second of pause, the Nomu launches itself up after him.

All Might leaps as well, managing to grab onto its leg a hair before it gets a hold of Mob. They go speeding towards the ground, Nomu going head first and All Might following right after.

Shigaraki laughs, "Are you sure you don't want to let your students do all the dirty work All Might? Tell me, is it true? Are you getting weaker?"

Izuku suddenly feels cold.

The Nomu is half into a portal, it's upper half reaching out and grabbing All Might's torso with an iron tight grip. Even from this distance, Izuku can see red starting to stain right where All Might showed him that ginormous wound so long ago.

"You see," Kurogiri says, "it's the Nomu's job to get around that blinding speed of yours and hold you down. And it's my job to close the gate when you're halfway through and immobilized. Thereby, cutting you into two."

"Tsuyu," Izuku says. "Grab Aizawa for me."

"Sure," she says, and after a moment of hesitation, she does. "But what are yo-"

That's all she has time to get out before Izuku is rushing towards All Might. It's desperate, it's reckless, but Izuku has to save him. He hasn't had enough time with him, hasn't learned enough from him.

"Wait, Midoriya!" Sero yells. "Come back!"

A gateway appears in front of Izuku as he runs to All Might, the wispy black smoke threatens to envelop him before Kacchan leaps out of with fire in his palms. He smacks a steel piece against the ground, it hits with a metallic twang. "Get the hell out of here, Deku!" he says.

At the same moment, Kirishima rushes toward Shigaraki, almost landing a hit on him with his hardened arms but only knocking the hand off of his face instead. "Damn!" he says, quickly taking two steps back, "Almost had him."

Ice suddenly curls around the Nomu enveloping it so it can no longer move. Todoroki appears, moving at an even pace. "Scum like you can't hope to kill the Symbol of Peace," he says. All Might breaks free of the hold, the Nomu's grip weakened due to being frozen.

Shigaraki seems frozen for a second, unmoving with his head tilted down just enough that it covers his face. He moves towards the hand, gently picking it up, careful not to touch it with all his fingers. "I'm sorry," he says as he places it back on. "Father." He pauses. "Nomu, take out that explosive brat," he says, "We need our escape route back."

The Nomu breaks itself in half to escape the gate and pulls itself out, muscles reforming the second it's upright again. It leaps as soon its arm is reformed, flying towards Bakugou with inhuman speed. All Might leaps forward, blocking the Nomu from Bakugou right as the creature stops mid-flight.

When Izuku looks, he finds Mob with his hand outstretched and head hanging down. The Nomu glows an even brighter white and then smacks against the ground, leaving a crater the exact size of the Nomu. Mob lifts it up and smacks it down three more times. On the third, it bounces upwards, soaring through the air like a super bouncy ball. It goes straight through the glass ceiling, disappearing into the sky above.

With the threat gone, Mob seems to run out of the last of his energy. The white streams of energy stop billowing above him, his milky white eyes close, and he falls straight out of the sky.

"Mob!" Sero shouts and Izuku can see an arc of tape arc out above him towards Mob. It wraps around him and pulls him towards the rest of the group.

Izuku runs towards him, arms outstretched.

"You see All Might!" Shigaraki shouts, throwing his arms out. He sounds hysterical now, and Izuku guesses he would too if his best weapon was tossed aside like a cheap toy by a high schooler. "Heroes and villains thrive on violence, but we're still categorized! That's just how it is. You say you're the Symbol of Peace, yet you raise up children who are just tools for violence! And I'll show you that by killing you and your students."

Izuku catches Mob and pain shoots up his arms from the weight of him, they both fall to the ground. Izuku smacks his face against the concrete, chipping one of his front teeth. Mob rolls a few feet away from him. Izuku scrambles up at the same time that Shigaraki launches himself towards them, hands outstretched.

All Might blurs, appearing next to Shigaraki. He grabs one arm and then the other, twisting his hands behind his back. "Don't pretend like you have any kind of ideals," he says to the villain. "You're just enjoying this."

Shigaraki squirms in his hold. "No," he says. "No, no, no! We can't lose the game yet, Sensei wouldn't let us lose the game this quickly."

For a minute it looks like victory is certain. All Might is safe and has a hold on Shigaraki. Bakugou's still got the one up on Kurogiri and is holding him down. The dangerous Nomu is out of the facility. Izuku kneels next to the unconscious Mob and allows himself to feel relieved.

Mob suddenly shoots straight up, back ramrod straight. His eyes are clear now, observing the situation. He looks up at the cracked open glass ceiling. Blood continues to drip down his face, enough so that Izuku is surprised he's awake.

"Oh, Mob!" Izuku says. The relieved feeling expands just a little bit. If Mob's ok that's enough for now.

But then he realizes Mob has started crying.

Big, blubbery tears cascade down his face. Each breath quivers, his whole body racked with his shaking. If Izuku had thought Mob looked emotional during battle training, it's nothing compared to now.

Mob wails, bringing up his knees to tuck his head in between them.

_One hundred percent. Anxiety._

A burst of energy erupts from him, spreading across the facility and lifting everyone off of their feet.

Glass pieces start flying up into the air, like a reserve rain of glittering shards. They attach themselves to the broken ceiling that the Nomu flew out of, filling the space with splintered pieces all desperately coming together to fix something broken.

Bakugou loses his hold on Kurogiri while he floats up and the man completely vanishes. He shows up again next to Shigaraki and All Might, the black mist starting to envelop them both. "Come along Shigaraki," Kurogiri says. "It is time for us to make our exit."

Shigaraki cackles, squirming in All Might's grip until he can twist a hand around and get all five fingers on All Might's elbow.

All Might hisses in pain and his grip loosens, allowing Shigaraki to float back in Kurogiri's gate. "Until next time," he says, "All Might." And then he's gone.

"No!" All Might shouts.

Bakugou yells, outraged at the loss. "You let them get away!" he screams at Mob, who is still completely unresponsive. "We fucking had them!"

"Mob! Mob, look at me!" Izuku calls, tears forming in his eyes as he desperately reaches out towards him. Mob doesn't even seem to hear him, doesn't put any of them down, doesn't even look up. He continues brokenly sobbing all the way until Iida arrives with reinforcements, shoulders jolting with each unsteady breath.

**To be continued…**

**Hello all! :D**

**I had about a third of this chapter written by the time I published the last one, so I kinda finished this one pretty quickly, lol! I figured I'd get it out to you all now because I know some "life stuff"(TM) is about to start happening, so it might be a bit of wait until the next one. In the meantime tho, I hope you enjoy the USJ arc!**


	9. I Swear to God, I wasn't Meant to Fight

**I Swear To God, I Wasn't Born to Fight**

By: bunnyscribe (AO3)

On his single day off for recovery, after awakening that very morning to broken bones and blurry vision; Shota finds himself in the teacher's lounge, hunched over the file of one Kageyama Shigeo. The file is almost depressingly thin, mainly comprised of old grade cards dating back to elementary school and information on the single club he had been in his last two years of middle school. There's no disciplinary forms or paperwork for quirk misusage to be found, though Shota had been expecting nothing less. The boy's expressionless face stares up at Shota from the page, as unremarkable as the information typed upon it.

He lets himself feel frustrated, clutching his hair into a bandaged fist with his one good hand. He had seen the damage at USJ, demanded All Might had walked him through it almost immediately after he woke up yesterday. In the blurry spots of his vision, he can still see the cracked up craters and the charred remains of the Conflagration Zone that littered the facility.

Shota knew Kageyama was powerful. He had seen him shoot a ball half a mile away without breaking a sweat. He had watched as he swooped a raging student off of his feet, not just once, but twice, both times requiring little more than a raised finger. But he also knew that his student was well aware of how much responsibility came with that type of power, to the point where he was terrified of his own strength and didn't want to use it at all.

And that's where the issue lies, isn't it? He huffs out a breath, annoyed at his own inability to connect the dots. What makes someone so terrified of their quirk use such an overwhelming amount of strength? Even accounting for a villain attack, the behavior is vastly out of the norm.

"You know, I figured I'd find you here, you workaholic! Shouldn't you be, you know, resting?"

The papers are swiped from him, leaving Shota's bandaged hand clutching at empty air. He slowly picks up his head to find out who had the nerve to do such a thing. He is utterly unsurprised to find Hizashi, standing with one foot on the chair next to Shota, one hand on his hip and the other holding the paper as he squints at it.

"Ahh, so that bothered face is about this one!" Hizashi says after a second, turning to Shota with a grin. He moves his foot off the chair and spins around so he can flop down onto it, then throws his feet onto the desk in one grandiose swoop. "This kid's a tough one, even for me," he tells Shota in a failed attempt at a whisper despite no one else being in the room. "He's real literal about everything, makes it real hard to teach him literature ironically. He describes complex concepts like love and loss like a kid rehashing a five-minute lecture they got on geometry. I mean, seriously, if he showed even a little more emotion he'd remind me of you-"

"He's the one who caused all the damage at USJ," Shota interrupts, knowing that if he doesn't he's susceptible to being subjected to an entire hour of rambling.

Hizashi stares at him, mouth dropping open. "Wait," he says, "Wait, hold up." He lays the papers down on the desk, jabbing his finger at Kageyama's portrait. "You're telling me that whatever nuclear bomb swept through USJ-" Hizashi says, sweeping out an arm in a grand gesture- "is packed into that five foot two frame?"

Shota fixes Hizashi with an irritated look before he sighs and slumps down into his seat. "I can't figure it out," he says.

Hizashi blinks. "What? The kid? Or how in the world he wrecked an entire facility?"

"Both," Shota says.

"Wow," Hizashi says, a grin spreads across his face like oil on water. "Something even the great Shota can't figure out, hun? That feat might be more impressive than what he did at USJ, to be honest."

Shota scoffs, picking back up the papers. "Don't be ridiculous."

Hizashi takes his feet off the desk, leaning forward to rest his head on his hands as he smirks at Shota. The look quickly fades into something more pensive, however, as his gaze moves back to the file. "So what are you going to do about it?"

Shota grips the papers minutely tighter and they crinkle beneath his fingers, distorting Kageyama's face. "I'm going to talk to him tomorrow," he says. "And then we'll go from there."

.-.-.

Izuku sits on the sand, nervously combing it through his fingers. He tosses glances over his shoulder at random intervals, his mouth pulled into a tight frown as he waits.

He fidgets as he pulls out his phone to check his messages again, only to find no reply. He knows Mob's phone is too old to send notifications on whether or not the text messages were read, so Izuku doesn't even have any idea whether he's looked at them or not either.

"_hey, can we meet ?" _6:58 PM

"_i feel like we need to talk about yesterday" _6:59 PM

"_ill be at dagobah beach park" _6:59 PM

He moves to drum his fingers against his knee, full of nervous energy. The one finger he had broken saving Tsuyu, Sero, and himself is completely healed. It had been his only major injury, hadn't even taken Recovery Girl more than a few seconds to put it back in place.

Thinking of it, he brushes a tongue against his chipped tooth. It was something she couldn't fix, she had told him sternly, he would just have to learn to live with it. He thinks she felt bad about it though because she didn't scold him so much about his broken finger after she said had that.

Now, however, Izuku's been waiting for a little over thirty minutes and he decides it feels much worse than a single broken finger. He wishes he had asked for Reigen's number so he could maybe find out where Mob lives. He's not sure what he'd do with that information, but it'd be comforting to be able to find Mob as a last resort.

"_I'm here." _7:45 PM

Izuku takes a second to process the notification, opening up the texts and staring at it. There's a shuffling noise behind him gets his attention and he spins around.

Mob is heading towards him, pace sedated and even. Others might have assumed he was unhurried, but Izuku couldn't help but read it as hesitancy, every step looking like he was dragging his feet. His head was still wrapped in gauze. A single bright neon pink bandage sticks over his nose despite the rest of his face being framed by uncovered, yellowing bruises and scabbed over scrapes. His broken arm rests in a sling, Recovery Girl's healing only able to do so much with so many injuries in so little time.

"Hey," Izuku says, barely audible over the waves.

Mob only nods in response, taking a seat down next to him. He doesn't meet Izuku's eyes, instead staring towards the ocean with an entirely unreadable expression that puts Izuku on edge. The only indication anything is worrying Mob at all comes in the form of a tightly clenched fist resting against the ground.

The moment continues on, Mob's aversion to looking at him makes it clear to Izuku that he'll have to start the conversation. He finds himself at a loss of words from the pressure, all planned speeches exiting his head like they're melting out of his ears.

"Do you," he chokes out. Mob finally looks at him. Izuku feels heat rising to his cheeks underneath the intensity of the stare. "Do you want to talk about it?"

"No," Mob says with a sense of finality that Izuku didn't know he possessed.

Izuku nods slowly, turning away from him. "Ok," he says, "Ok." He hesitates, debating his next move. "You know, you still haven't told me about your quirk," he says, with all the eloquence of someone shoving their foot into their mouth.

Mob hums, and for a second Izuku fears that he isn't going to respond beyond that. In his peripherals, he can see Mob turn to look at the ocean with him. The waves move further and further away as they talk, the low tide sweeping in.

"My quirks powered by my emotions," Mob say finally. "My master says the more they build up, the stronger my quirk gets."

Several things start clicking in Izuku's head, the new information causing the gears to turn rapidly. "So that's why your power fluctuates? That makes sense actually, you always seemed stronger in high-stress situations. That's...amazingly suited for hero work! You could really easily subdue villains in dangerous scenarios, because who wouldn't be emotional during them? And we've already seen your quirk in action to stop violent people without escalating things, like your fight against Kacchan. You didn't even leave a scratch on him!"

Izuku turns to Mob excitedly, only to have his mouth snap closed mid-rant. Mob's head is tilted in a way that causes the shadows falling over his face to become more intense, his blank stare ten times more off-putting than it had been before.

Izuku starts sweat, suddenly recalling how terrified Mob had looked as he had stared up at that broken ceiling. "I'm sorry," he says softly. "I didn't mean to talk so much."

"No," Mob says, picking his head back up. "It's fine."

The hum of energy in the air lead Izuku to believe that, no, it is not fine. The silence between them is tense and Mob pointedly turns away from him.

Izuku coughs. "Can I," he starts, "ask what happened with your quirk at USJ?"

Mob gives him a steely look.

"Not about what actually happened!" Izuku clarifies. "Just about what your quirk was doing."

Mob examines him, eyes piercing. "Sometimes it's too much," he finally says.

"Too much?" Izuku asks, bringing up a hand to his mouth to bite his thumb. "You mean like overwhelming? An emotional state that forms into a telekinetic burst of energy focused on one emotion…"

"Yes," Mob says.

Certain things are clicking in Izuku's mind and he can't help but feel slightly relieved that he's figuring out some of the puzzle that is Mob and his quirk. "But wait," Izuku says, realization dawning on him. "What about what happened when you were unconscious?"

Mob hums, pausing, and as much Izuku wants to jump in with guesses and theories and questions, he refrains. He knows Mob well enough to know that interrupting his thought process will just make things harder on him.

"I don't know what happened," Mob says.

"You don't know?"

"It's only happened once before this, and I don't remember what happened then either."

"When was that?" Izuku asks, inquisitive nature getting the better of him. He leans forward to get a better look into Mob's eyes. "Was there anyone else around to see what happened?"

Mob lifts up his hands, tilting his head to look at them like he can find the answers in his palms. "My brother was there. I was eleven," he says quietly.

"Did he tell you what happened?"

Mob's eyes flash up to him before moving back to his hands. He clutches them into fists, so tightly that his nails form little white crescents on his skin. "I don't want to talk about it anymore," he says.

Izuku thinks about the destructive power Mob had in USJ. If he closes his eyes, he can still see the Nomu's torn arm lying on the floor of the plaza, the inner muscle, flesh, and bone showing through. He thinks of broken glass ceilings.

"Midoriya," Mob says, startling him out of his thoughts.

"Y-Yeah?"

"Do you think I should stop trying to become a hero?"

Izuku's heart plummets from his chest and lands six feet under.

Mob is the first friend Izuku's had in a very long time, but they only had gotten as close as they did because their aspirations to be heroes. If Mob left the course, decided that he was too afraid, then there was nothing Izuku could do. Even after the short amount of time they had known each other, Izuku doesn't think he could fully accept Mob giving up.

He doesn't say any of this. "Is that what you want to do?"

"Ritsu thinks I should."

"Do you agree with him?"

Mob hums, "Someone I knew told me that she hoped I found something I wanted," Mob says. "I didn't know what she meant at first, but I think I'm starting to understand."

Izuku blinks, thrown by the sudden shift in topic. "What do you mean?"

"I've done a lot of things because people said I should," Mob says. "I need to do something for myself, but I don't know what yet."

It takes a moment for Izuku to find his voice. "I think…" he says, but then finds he doesn't know what he thinks. Mob waits patiently, looking at him with that same stare as he always does, though it feels heavier this time. "I think you should do what you need to do," he says, "but if you left, I'd-" He stops.

Izuku's not quite sure how to finish that sentence. What would he do if Mob left? Silence ticks on, Mob still waiting for him to finish. The waves lick at the shore.

"I-I don't know," he finally says. "I don't think you should give up yet, but that's not up to me."

The look Mob gives him seems guarded, more of a blank stare than even his usual blank stare. "You wouldn't be upset at me?"

Izuku blinks at Mob in surprise. The question suddenly gives the conversation more weight than it had before and it sits between them. "What? No! I mean, of course, I'd be upset, but not at you. You can't do things just to make other people happy, you have to do what you wanna do. And as your friend, it's really not my place to stop you, if that's your choice."

When he glances back up at Mob, he's found that something has shifted in his eyes, however slight. "Thank you," he says.

Izuku studies Mob, scanning his brain for any reason Mob has to thank him. He can't find anything. As far as Izuku knows, he's only been asking questions Mob doesn't want to answer and saying things that Mob doesn't want to hear. "For what?"

Mob hums. "For the advice, I think," he says. At Izuku's confused look or, perhaps more likely, because he doesn't understand what he's said himself, he adds, "Sorry, I don't know how to put it better."

The honesty startles a laugh out of Izuku. "That's alright," he says, smiling for the first time in a while. His teeth clink together and he can feel the chip in his tooth, but his smile doesn't waver. "Let me know when you figure it out."

After a second, Mob smiles back. "I will."

.-.-.

The introduction of the sports festival goes over well enough. Shota can see the students mirror his own concerns over having the festival so close to a villain attack, but he tries to sweep them aside. It is only logical to continue going on as normal in the face of such adversity in order to demonstrate that U.A.'s crisis protocols are sound. Besides, with quadruple the security and the whole nation watching, only a reckless fool would try something.

"This happens once a year, so you have three chances throughout your school life." He keeps a careful eye on Kageyama as he finishes his explanation. The boy's expression hasn't moved an inch since he started talking, hasn't said a word in response. "This is an invaluable experience to becoming a hero."

Shota lets the students chatter amongst themselves until homeroom ends, stare unwavering as he watches Kageyama chatting politely with an excited Midoriya and Sero. He does not smile, doesn't react at all really.

"Kageyama," Shota calls out and the whole class jolts to attention. "I want to talk to you in the hall."

All eyes move to Kageyama as he hesitantly stands. He follows after Shota to the door, exiting in front of him. Shota moves to close the door and then stops. "The rest of you wait here, quietly. Cementoss will be in momentarily."

He hears the conversation begin anew before he even gets the door all the way shut. "What's going on?" he hears Midoriya's voice asks over all the others.

He doesn't have time to dwell on this, however, as Kageyama turns to face him, face entirely void of emotion. "Aizawa-sensei," he says after a momentary pause. "What is it?"

"Kageyama," Shota says, and then because he's not one to beat around the bush, "Why do you want to become a hero?"

"I don't know."

Shota raises an eyebrow, immediately caught off guard by the answer. "You don't know?" he asks incredulously.

Kageyama shakes his head. "I'm still deciding if I want to become a hero or not," he says, voice matter of fact.

Shota stares at Kageyama for a moment, then says, "Why are you here if you don't know? This isn't the sort of program where you can just take your time with it. You will be pushed to your very limits and if you aren't prepared, it will break you."

Kageyama looks down at his feet, breaking eye contact. "My master said that too," he says. "But I had a friend tell me it was my decision and I've decided I want to take time to make it. I think."

Shota files the master comment away for later, for now focusing entirely on his student. "This isn't something to be taken lightly," he says. "You have shown an extreme aversion to fighting so far, that cannot continue if you want to stay on this path."

"I know," Kageyama says. The words have an edge to them, jagged enough to stick to Shota, but other than that are completely unreadable. He pauses after that and Shota can almost see the gears turning in his brain. "I'm going to try in the sports festival and see if I can do it," is what he finally settles on.

Everything's quiet in the hallway for a moment, the air tense between them. The only sound is the muffled hum of words coming behind the classroom door. Shota sighs. "You've thought about this."

"Yes."

"And this is what you want to do."

"I think so."

"Alright," Shota says with another sigh, bringing up his hand to rub against his eyes. "If this doesn't work though, if you can't do it, I'm going to expel you."

Kageyama's head snaps up and for the first time, Shota can see the obvious surprise written on his face. His hair gently lifts into the air, before quickly settling. He blinks. "Ok," he says.

"Alright," Shota says, taking a deep breath to prepare himself for what comes next. "Now I need you to explain exactly what happened to me at USJ, in full detail."

Shota can see the sheen of sweat forming on Kageyama's forehead. "It won't happen again," he says.

"That's not what I'm asking," Shota says. "I'm asking what happened."

Kageyama looks back down at his feet as though they are extremely interesting. "I passed out," he says after a pause. He doesn't elaborate any more than that.

Shota stays silent, trying to encourage something else out of him, but Mob stays silent. Whether it's out of stubbornness or out of patience, Shota doesn't know. "And you lost control of your quirk," he prompts.

Kageyama nods.

"That's very," Shota stops, trying to find the right wording, "concerning."

"It won't happen again," Kageyama repeats bluntly.

Shota might not be able to read Kageyama very well, but he can tell that pushing this matter right now isn't going to help anything. The air of stress around him is thick enough to cut with a knife. Shota can see Cementoss approaching from down the hall. "Go to class," Shota tells Kageyama, turning away from him. "We'll discuss this later. For now, just focus on preparing for the sports festival."

There's a pause behind him and Shouta can hear Kageyama shuffle his feet. "Yes sir," he eventually says. Then, "Thank you."

The classroom door slides open, and Shota doesn't let himself leave until it shuts again.

.-.-.

It's a stroke of luck, whether it's good or bad, that Toshinori finds himself standing across from Young Kageyama at his local park on his weekend off.

The boy is dressed more casually than Toshinori normally sees him. He's wearing jeans and a tee shirt that has the words "Heroic Consultation Office" branded across it in faded type. However, what's most concerning at the moment is the tiny angry red scratches that litter his arms and face.

"Oh," Kageyama says. "Hello."

Toshinori pushes down his nerves, swallowing down the blood in his throat. "Hello," he says, choking out the reply. He tugs at the neck of his baggy shirt, suddenly feeling too tight despite being about six sizes too big.

Seeing Kageyama is both a blessing and a curse. He has been fretting over the boy since the USJ incident a few days back but hasn't had a moment to speak with him. It's starting to become worrisome, how close he sticks to Young Midoriya's side and keeps his head down. It's nice to see him out and about at least, without the tense air that hung around him like a thick cloud every time he entered U.A., especially with the sports festival now looming over his head.

However, it has been quite a while since they met on the beach with Kageyama in this powered down form. He's privy to information about Kageyama and his quirk that he shouldn't be at this moment and he's got to be careful of how much of his hand that he shows.

Kageyama tilts his head, entirely unaware of Toshinori's dilemma. "Are you feeling any better?" he asks.

"Wh-What?! What do yo-? Oh! Oh yes, I'm feeling much better," Toshinori says, rubbing the back of his neck with an uneasy smile. "All over that cold now."

"That's good," Kageyama says with a nod.

There's a pause as Toshinori tries desperately to figure out what to say next, looking from some way to gracefully exit the conversation. It's ridiculous. For all the ease he has in charming the media in his hero form, it feels like all that confidence is lost the second he powers down.

"Oi, Mob!" A brown haired man suddenly comes tearing out of the bushes, coming between Toshinori and Kageyama. He bears the same kind of tee shirt and scratches that Kageyama has. "Have you seen the cat come by here? I lost it in the…" The man trails off as he turns his attention from the bush onto the two standing there. "Eh?" He points at Toshinori, "Who are you? Do you know him Mob?"

"Yes," Mob says with a nod. "He's the man I told you was training Midoriya. I haven't seen him since we started at U.A. though."

The brown-haired man hums, looking at Toshinori with eyes that seem to see right through him. "What'd you say your name was?"

Toshinori curls into himself, the curve as his spine coming more pronounced as he tries to shield himself with the little bit of a physical form he has left. "I didn't," he says, "but it's Toshinori Yagi."

The man stares at him, scanning him up and down with a thin frown on his face. The look makes Toshinori feel small despite being at least a head taller than him. The man nods his head firmly, then gestures his hand wildly before throwing it out towards Toshinori. "Reigen Arataka, it's nice to meet you."

Toshinori blinks, looking from Reigen's hand to his face. When he realizes what the other man is intending, he takes the half a step forward that it takes to grab his hand, almost covering it with his own. "Likewise," Toshinori says, giving his hand a gentle shake.

Reigen nods, seemingly pleased. He turns back to Kageyama. "Oi, Mob," he grunts. "Go check the trees, I think the cat climbed up one of them."

Kageyama nods after only the slightest pause. "Ok," he says, already moving towards the bushes Reigen exited out of. "I'll be right back Master."

Toshinori doesn't speak again until Mob has disappeared into the brush, eyes tracking after him. "Master?" he asks.

Reigen looks back towards Toshinori, posture loose but eyes perspective. "I'm a hero from Spice City. Mob's a fan and an apprentice, he's helping me with some volunteer work right now."

"A hero, you say?" Toshinori asks, trying to wrack his brain in a search for the Heroic Consultation Office. It's then that he remembers Spice City's lack of funding for such things. He glances back to the bushes where Kageyama disappeared to, nerves suddenly rising even more. "What is your hero name then?" he asks.

"The Illusionist."

"I'm afraid I haven't heard of you," Toshinori says, trying to keep the suspicion from creeping into his tone.

It doesn't work too well if the sharp look Reigen gives him is another to go by. "Most people haven't," he says, turning his head to inspect his nails. "Spice City isn't really on the map, you know? Too poor for that." He breaks out into a stretch. "How did you start training Midoriya?"

Toshinori starts, thrown off by the sudden change in topic. "I'm a-ah-" he sputters, feeling blood dribble down his chin from the sudden stress. He lifts up a hand and wipes it away. "I'm an old boxing coach."

Reigen lifts an eyebrow, looking unimpressed. "A boxing coach?"

"We-Well, yes. After I stopped working underneath All Might, I took up-"

"Wait," Reigen says, cutting him off with a wide gesture. His stares at Toshinori, wide-eyed. "You worked under All Might?" His voice cracks on the last syllable.

Toshinori suddenly recalls the limited edition, All Might collectible cell phone that Kageyama had pulled out that first day on the beach and Midoriya's subsequent reaction to it. He's found another fanboy then. And perhaps another fraudulent hero, if his intuition is anything to go by. He feels a pang of concern for Kageyama, getting tied up with a man like this.

Reigen coughs, visibly composing himself by waving a hand around in front of his face. "Nevermind, we can come back to that," he says. "How long have you been training Midoriya for?"

"About six months before he went into U.A. with Young Kageyama," Toshinori says, unsure of where this line of questioning is going.

Reigen hums. "It sounds like you worked him pretty hard to get in there from what I heard from Mob. They met because a fridge was about to fall on top of him, under your watch, right?"

Toshinori feels a sudden stab of guilt. "I-"

"Master, I caught it."

Kageyama appears from the bushes again. He looks marginally worse than he did before, his face now baring quite a few more gashes. A cat trails in from behind him, floating and enveloped in the same purple haze that Toshinori's now associating Mob with. "It didn't like me touching it," Kageyama says, "so I had to carry it like this."

The cat yowls.

Toshinori can feel the shared surprise between Reigen and himself hovering in the air. Reigen is the first to compose himself, straighten out his back. "Nice job Mob!" he says, a grin spreading across his face. It fades quickly though, as he closer inspects the young boy. He brings a hand up to his chin, looking pensive. "We should get cleaned up though. These cuts could get infected really easily. Wouldn't want you to be out of the game just for some cat scratches."

Mob nods, "Ok, that sounds good."

Reigen turns back to Toshinori, whose eyes are still on the floating cat. He clears his throat and Toshinori turns to him. "We'll talk more soon," he says. It's made to sound like a pleasantry, but Toshinori can hear the unspoken promise.

"I'm sure we will," Toshinori says with a hesitant nod. He turns to Kageyama, forming a small smile on his face. "Have a good rest of your day, Young Kageyama," he says to him.

Kageyama nods. "You too."

And with that Kageyama and Reigen disappear back through the bushes with cat floating behind in tow, leaving Toshinori to ponder over what just happened.

**To be continued… **

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	10. Go! Fight! Begin!

**Disclaimer: neither I or bunnyscribe own Mob Psycho 100 or My Hero Academia**

**Go! Fight! Begin!**

By: bunnyscribe (AO3)

Midoriya keeps throwing worried glances back at Mob all the way up until Cementoss finishes teaching. Hanta heavily doubts the other boy even notices, the main reason Hanta even notices was because he was throwing worried looks at the both of them.

Mob stares out the window even after Cementoss leaves and everyone starts gathering together into little cliques, excitedly chattering about the sports festival.

"Man, I am so fricken pumped!" Kirishima says. "This is gonna be so awesome!"

"A true chance to reach for conquest and demonstrate our skills," Tokoyami says. "We should all attempt to do our best."

"This our chance to prove ourselves to our educators and add our names to the ranks of heroes!" Iida says, pulling his arms into his sides. "We should all be thrilled at the opportunity!"

"Speaking of educators," Hanta says, standing up from his chair and staring at Mob meaningfully. "Was Aizawa asking you about the sports festival Mob?"

Mob finally turns away from the window to face him. "Oh, yes," he says, voice entirely dead. It's an obvious tell to Hanta that he's dreading whatever he's going to say next, and not for the first time he wonders how someone so stoic can be that expressive. He, however, immediately stops questioning it after what Mob says next.

"He said he's going to expel me if I don't do good at the sports festival."

Uraraka gasps, having moved close enough to hear their conversation, "He can't do that!"

Midoriya goes pale, bringing up a thumb to his mouth to bite on, a nervous tic. "Yes, he could, remember? He threatened to expel us all on the first day."

"That was just a ruse!" Iida says, also having moved towards their group. His arm comes up and down in a chopping motion. That one isn't a nervous tic, Hanta notes, just an Iida one. "Underperformance at a school event is no means for expulsion!"

"Yeah man," Hanta says, leaning back and putting a hand on his hip. "Are you sure you've got things straight? Maybe he was just trying to encourage you in some weird, twisted way?"

Mob shakes his head. "No," he says. "He was serious. Even if he wasn't, it doesn't matter, I think."

"Why would you say that?" Iida asks.

Mob's neutral expression shifts into a contemplative frown. "I don't know if I want to be a hero still."

"What?" Hanta asks, truly baffled. He thinks of Mob saving him during the exam, the remains of the robot that could've crushed him lying mere meters behind them. He thinks of USJ and the Nomu. "How can you say that man? You're already a hero!"

Mob shoots him a blank look that Hanta can't interpret this time. "No, I'm not," he says, "I'm a student."

"Well," Uraraka says, slamming a hand down onto Mob's desk. An uncharacteristically intense look covers her face. "This is all the more reason," she says, "for us to crush this!"

Mob blinks at her and then studies her face. Hanta watches as his gaze softens. "Yeah," he says. "I think you're right."

With the matter seemingly settled, their little group exits to the hallway and heads towards the lunch room. It's about halfway there that Midoriya asks Uraraka why she wants to be a hero.

Hanta raises an eyebrow at her answer. "For money?" he echoes.

"I know!" Uraraka bemoans, lifting up her hands to her cheeks, fingers poised carefully so all five tips aren't touching her face. "It's not really noble reason…"

"Nonsense!" Iida says. "There is no shame in wanting a more comfortable lifestyle."

"Yeah," Midoriya says, tilting his head curiously. "It's just unexpected that's all."

"Well, you see," Uraraka says, face flush as she rubs the back of her neck. "My family is broke. I mean, we're really poor. We run a construction company, and I offered to help but…"

"They said no," Hanta finishes.

"Yeah," Uraraka says, hands falling back to her side. "They wanted me to follow my dreams instead, so." She stares down at her feet for a second, expression thoughtful. When she looks back up, determination ripples across her features. "I'm gonna become a hero so I can give my family an easier lifestyle."

"You can always come to my house Uraraka," Mob chimes in suddenly after a beat of silence. "My mom makes good food."

At first, Hanta's not sure of the connection between what Mob is saying and the new information on Uraraka's financial status. But then Uraraka face flushes and it clicks.

"O-Oh!" she says, rubbing the back of her neck, "I'm not skimping on meals or anything! We-Well, I mean sometimes, a little, but I get plenty to eat here!"

"Dude," Hanta says, "That's not good. Is that why you pack away so much food at lunch?"

"Are you getting enough calories for hero training?" Midoriya asks. "You might pass out if you're not and that wouldn't be good, though you eat so much at lunch and that's right before hero training so you might be good. But still, there has to be a better way than that…Are there soup kitchens around? Me and my mom used those for a while when I was younger. I'll have to look into that again…" His voice trails off into something unintelligible, mouth hidden behind the clenched fist he's raised to cover it.

"I wish you would've told me this sooner Uraraka!" Iida says. "The Iida residency is always open to you."

Uraraka blinks, her lips quivering. Hanta can see the sheen of tears forming behind her eyes. "Guys," she says, voice watery. She wipes her eyes with a hiccupy laugh. "I don't...I don't know what to say."

"You don't have to say anything, I don't think," Mob says. "You just have to reach out to us if you need help."

"Oi, Young Midoriya!" All Might says, appearing around a corner. All of them jolt, Uraraka spins around to face him.

"O-Oh," Midoriya says, looking puzzled. "What is it?"

"Wanna," All Might holds up a bento box wrapped in a floral handkerchief, "eat lunch with me?"

Hanta snorts.

.-.-.

Mob winds up meeting Reigen early in the morning on the day before the sports festival, his master taking him out for breakfast at a small restaurant right up the road from his office.

It's raining that morning, water dribbling down from the cracks in the ceiling and landing in the buckets on the floor. A waitress in a tee-shirt for some obscure band comes and takes their order before disappearing back into the kitchen.

"So," Reigen says, leaning back in his chair. "How are you feeling?"

Mob hums. He takes a couple minutes to really turn the question over in his head. His master's fingertips restlessly drum against the table, a rhythmic and comforting sound.

"I feel...nervous," he finally says.

Reigen snorts. "I'd be more surprised if you didn't."

Mob hesitates on his next question, opening his mouth and shutting it as he tries to collect the words. "Master," he says.

Reigen raises an eyebrow.

"Does my quirk give me an unfair advantage in the sports festival?"

An expression Mob can't understand ghosts over Reigen's face, disappearing as quickly as it came. It replaces itself with something contemplative as he leans forward, resting his chin on his hands. "I-" he says, and then stops.

Mob waits patiently.

Reigen sighs, rolling his head over to his right hand so he can gesture with his left. "Mob, I've told you before that your power is a part of you, right?"

Mob nods.

"Then the same goes for everyone else," Reigen says slowly, the words gaining more conviction as they come out of his mouth. His left gestures wildly, pointing at Mob and swaying every direction. "Everyone else in that festival will be coming at it with everything they've got, and that means you should too. You've trained your quirk with guidance from me, one of the greatest heroes of all time, and you've gotten good at controlling it." His reaches towards Mob, patting his hand before retracting his own. "I believe you should go at it with all of your ability, as long as you are careful with it. That's what your friends will be doing too, right?"

Mob thinks of Uraraka's face when she said she wanted to give her family a better life, the determination in her eyes. He nods.

Reigen smiles at him. "I believe you'll make the right choices, Mob. After all," the smile turns smugger, "You've had an excellent teacher."

"Yes, I think Aizawa has helped me a lot so far."

Reigen purses his lips, processing the sentence before gasping dramatically and putting a hand on his chest with an overly offended expression. "How could I have raised such a disrespectful pupil?"

Mob gives him a small smile, and Reigen's expression slowly changes to mimic it.

The food comes after that, the waitress carrying an obscenely large amount of it with her and obviously struggling with it. When it wobbles, Mob grabs it with his quirk, gently lifting it from her arms and placing it on the table. She smiles at him, looking relieved. "Thanks, sweetie," she tells him, "I really appreciate it."

Mob blinks, "Of course." When she leaves, he turns his attention to all of the food. "This is a lot," he says eventually, glancing between the eggs and the pancakes.

"Yeah!" Reigen says, already digging into some waffles. "Think of it as a celebration! For getting into U.A. and for doing your best."

Mob pauses before taking a tiny bite of his eggs. He takes another. "Thank you," he says.

They eat in silence for a few minutes before Reigen says, "You're probably going to be popular after this, what with the festival being broadcasted nationwide and all." Then he snorts after a beat, bits of food flying out of his mouth. "Hey, just like you always wanted to be for Tsubomi, hun?"

Mob gives him a sharp look. "I don't think that's what I actually wanted," he says.

That same expression Mob couldn't register before appears on Reigen's face again, this time sticking there. "What do you mean?"

"When Tsubomi rejected me, she said she hoped I found something I really wanted," Mob says, placing his fork down. He looks down at his hands, contemplative. "I think I'm starting to understand what she meant by that now."

Reigen stares at him, then huffs out a breath. "You know Mob," he says, leaning over his food with a chuckle. "You really have grown."

At the end of breakfast, Reigen has wound up eating most of the food. He pays the same he normally does, with a ton of coupons and a huge tip. Then they walk to together to the nearest Spice City train station, chatting the entire way there. Well, Reigen mostly chatting the entire way there.

The train rolls in with their arrival, and Reigen walks with him all the way up to the open doors. He claps Mob's shoulder, and Mob is pleasantly surprised to find he doesn't flinch. "You've got this," he says. "I believe in you."

Mob pauses, and then nods. "I will make you proud, Master," he says quietly.

Reigen's grin softens into something gentle that Mob has only ever seen directed at himself. "I know you will Mob," he says. "I know you will." Then his body language shifts into something more energetic, ushering Mob onto the train. "Now go! Get home before the train leaves you behind!"

The doors hiss closed behind Mob and the train steadily begins moving down the track. He turns and watches out the window until Reigen disappears into a blot in the distance, feeling lighter than he has in a while.

_Ten._

.-.-.

Class 1-A is giving an entire preparation room right before the sports festival, big enough that Izuku is impressed even through his enormous amount of nerves. "Just keep calm," he whispers to himself, hand pressed against his racing heart. His mouth feels dry. "Keep calm."

"You look like you need this."

Izuku jolts and turns to face Mob, who's holding a bottle of water towards him. "Oh!" Izuku says, taking it from him with gentle hands, as though it might disintegrate underneath his touch. "Thank you!" He struggles with the cap for a second, almost ripping it off before downing the bottle in one go.

When he finishes, he finds Mob staring at him impassively enough that his some of his nerves fade into embarrassment. "Sorry," he says automatically. "I guess I was thirstier than I thought."

Mob tilts his head. "You don't need to apologize," he says. "It's just a bottle of water."

Izuku opens his mouth, unaware of how he's going to respond to that when a sharp voice interrupts him.

"Midoriya."

Izuku spins to find Todoroki staring at him, gaze intense. This would have normally thrown him off and sent him into a stuttering reply, but Mob has intense stares down to an art form, so instead, he just says, "Yeah?"

Todoroki hums, looking him up and down. "Objectively speaking, I am stronger than you. More capable even."

Izuku jolts, shocked at the bluntness of it all. "I-I mean, sure, but what's that got to do with anything?"

Todoroki goes to reply, but Mob intercepts him off before he gets the chance. "You shouldn't say that," he says, voice firm.

Todoroki narrows his eyes. "Why not?" he asks, "It's only the truth."

"M-Mob," Izuku says, waving a placating hand towards the other boy. "It's ok. He's right."

Mob only hums, face going even blanker than it normally is. Izuku can just tell he's trying to hide whatever he's thinking, whether he knows it or not.

Todoroki shakes his head like he's physically brushing away the interruption. "Anyway, Midoriya," he says. "All Might's got his eye on you, doesn't he?"

Another wave of surprise hits Izuku smack in the face and he can only hope it doesn't show through that clearly. "I-I...Well, I really don't-"

"I'm not prying," Todoroki says, "In all honesty, I don't really care. But, know this, I will beat you."

There's a heavy pause in the preparation room, everyone's eyes on the two of them. Kaminari breaks the silence with a whistle. "A declaration of war from the strongest kid in the class," he says. "What'd you do to earn that Midoriya?"

"Hey, y-yeah man," Kirishima says, reaching to put a hand on Todoroki's shoulder. He shrugs it off. "Why pick fights now of all times?"

"I don't care," Todoroki says. "I'm not here to pretend to be anyone else's friend."

Bakugou tchs in the background.

Izuku stares down at his hands, shoulders hunched as he gathers his resolve. He clenches his fist. "Todoroki," he says. "I don't know why you felt the need to tell me this." He raises his head, meeting the boys stare head-on. "But I need you to know, I am going for it too, with everything I've got."

"...Right," Todoroki says.

Izuku feels Mob stare weighing on him heavily.

A buzzer rings overhead. "Class 1-A!" a cheerful robotic voice chimes. "Please head outside now!"

There's a beat where everyone stares up at the ceiling, collectively whiplashed from such a cheerful voice following such a stressful interaction. "Is it already time?" Uraraka asks quietly.

"It seems like it," Tsuyu says with a croak. "Let's do our best everyone."

That seems to help steel everyone's nerves enough and they all gather up together, exiting the room and heading towards a light at the end of the hallway. Shouts of excitement echo in Izuku's ears alongside his rapid heart rate. He thinks of All Might's request to tell the world he's arrived and stands a bit taller.

"...the first years of the hero course have arrived!" Present Mic's voice screeches over the speakers. "It's Class-A!"

The screams that follow them to the center of the stadium are deafening.

"Whoooaa," Izuku says, lips quirked up in a trembling smile as he looks around at the sea of faces. "This is...this is so many people."

"Ahh," Mob hums, frowning and bringing a hand up to cover his ear when the crowd gets particularly rowdy. "They're too loud."

"I have some earplugs if you want them Mob," Tsuyu chimes from behind them.

Mob turns his head to face her, blinking. "That would be really nice," he says, "thank you."

Izuku has to hide a smile behind his hand as Tsuyu shows Mob the proper way to put the earplugs in. She gently pushes them into his ears and Izuku can almost see the moment the sound eases for Mob, tension Izuku didn't notice was there relaxing.

The rest of the student body gathers with them, wrapping around Class 1-A like a snare. Midnight is on the stage, looking obviously impatient. A wide grin spreads across her face as her eyes roam over the students.

"And now, the student who placed first in the hero course exam will come up to make a rousing speech to kick us off!" Midnight says when everyone finishes moving about. She lifts her arm and throws it back down to point into the crowd, her whip cracking with the movement. "Kageyama Shigeo!"

Izuku turns to Mob and finds him pale as a sheet. A glistening sweat drips down his forehead, his face entirely blank.

"Mob?" Izuku asks, "Are you alright?"

Mob doesn't respond, obviously not alright, and begins moving towards the stage. The crowd parts for him, watching in various degrees of surprise.

"Is he really going to be ok?" Uraraka asks quietly, lifting up a hand to bite at her nails.

"Well, he did place first in the entrance exam, a task like this should be trivial in the face of that," Iida says, but even he looks unsure as Mob takes his place on the stage.

Mob looks almost frozen up there beside some slight twitching in his fingers. Izuku finds his nerves growing for the other boy as he watches Mob lean towards the mic, making a noise that hisses like air out of a balloon that is amplified by the speakers. Some people in the stands cover their ears.

"Do…" Mob says, voice tiny. "Do your best."

Then he leans back and mechanically starts moving to leave the stage. All eyes follow him. Izuku winces in sympathy.

The crowd is completely silent until Mob reaches his spot by Izuku's side, looking like the small speech had knocked the wind out of him more than any fight ever had.

Midnight looks gobsmacked. "Well, I-" she says and then cuts herself off, glancing around at the equally baffled crowd.

"Is this some kind of joke?" a girl from the business department asks.

"This kid's really the representative of our class?" another student asks. "Just because he placed first on the hero exam?"

Mob stares down at his feet, clearly embarrassed, and Izuku feels his temper flare at the other student's jeers. He puts a hand on Mob's shoulder and opens his mouth the say something.

"Ehhh?" Sero says, beating him to it. He steps in front of Mob protectively. "Come on man, don't kick someone when they're down, it's obvious he's nervous."

"Yeah!" Kirishima chimes in, throwing a fist into the air. "It was a good speech! Short, manly, and full of sportsmanship!"

"Yeah, it was a great speech!" yells a boy with white hair and angry eyebrows from class-B. "Don't knock it!"

The shouting of the students seems to jolt Midnight back into herself. "Ye-Yes!" The confident demeanor clicks back into place immediately. "An excellent and concise introduction from Kageyama," she says and then spreads out her arms with flourish, "Now onto the main events!"

She gestures to the holographic screen that appears behind, buzzing as it cycles through different words and letters faster than Izuku's eyes can comprehend. "These are the qualifiers! The stage where so many are send home crying when victory slips from their grasp. And the first fateful event of this year is…this!"

The holograph finally settles on its choice of words.

_Obstacle Course Race._

.-.-.

Mob gets separated from his friends almost immediately when the race begins, crammed against others bodies in the narrow tunnel. He feels uncomfortable, yet he thinks of the resolve on Midoriya's face and keeps pushing forward.

Ice starts to crackle underneath his feet, forming around his shoes and, without thinking, he finds himself floating upward in a haze of purple. The students beside him freeze in their places, shouting in confusion.

Mob hesitates, surprised by his use of his own powers.

_Fourty-nine._

Then Bakugou blows past him, a manic grin on his face as fire erupts out of his palms. "No way you're getting in front of me that easily, half and half!"

Mob stares after him, hovering. He looks down and finds a tuft of green hair, steadily moving itself forward. He moves his hand and finds himself flying out of the tunnel.

Immediately after he bursts out of it, he is almost shot down by the blast of a laser. It flies past him, vanishing before it can come close to the crowd.

"Multiple targets acquired!" a one-point robot Mob recognizes from the exam hums.

"The first barrier!" Present Mic voice calls as Mob looks up towards at least seven zero point robots towering above him. "Robo Inferno."

Mob's first thought is about how unfair this all is, adding robots the hero course students weren't even expected to beat to a competition between the entire student body.

Yaoyorozu echos his second thought from somewhere to his left. "How'd they find the money to pay for this?" she asks.

Todoroki freezes the robots, creating a straight line for him to slip past them. Mob watches him go, watches other students moving to follow him.

There is a crackle and suddenly the robots start tipping over, the frozen metal collapsing due to being unstable. Mob is struck by the realization someone might be crushed. Someone yells.

_Fifty-five._

With a sweep of his hand, Mob obliterates the path wide open, knocking the robots away from the students and clearing a path for them.

"1-A's Todoroki busts through the first obstacle and sabotages the others in one move!" Present Mic says over the speakers. "But it looks like Kageyama has also swept in to help the others and get ahead at the same time! What a twist!"

Mob blows through the path he's created, speeding towards Todoroki.

"Amazing!" Present Mic shouts, "They're getting way ahead of the pack! Almost feels like it's unfair!"

Mob hesitates only for a second at the word unfair, before propelling himself forward, pushed by the memory of his master's words.

The next obstacle is a giant pit with ropes going across it. Todoroki's already about halfway through by the time Mob reaches it, but it's obviously not as easy for him than battling off all of the robots.

As Mob darts over towards him, gliding through the air, he finds himself looking towards the darkness below with concern for the rest of the students. There's no time to dwell on it though. Not if he wants to make his master proud.

"You're taking this too seriously," Mob tells Todoroki when he catches up to him.

Todoroki glances up at him in surprise. Then his eyes narrow and he grunts, breath becoming more labored as he strains himself to run faster across the tightropes.

Mob just stares at him for a second, matching his pace and just floating besides him. He hums and looks forward.

Would it be unfair to pass Todoroki? Mob finds himself uncertain.

"_Everyone else in that festival will be coming at it with everything they've got, and that means you should too."_

His resolve heightens. He pushes past Todoroki, racing forward.

"Not so fast, Bowl for Brains!" Bakugou yells, suddenly appearing from behind them. He's closing in on Mob, and Mob tries to push himself forward faster.

"Our leaders are reaching the final obstacle now! Which is to say…" Present Mic says, voice drenched in tangible excitement. "This minefield!"

_This is dangerous _, is all Mob has time to think before Bakugou detonates a bomb behind him, launching himself to Mob's side.

"You think you can beat me, you dumbass?" he asks, sneering at Mob.

Todoroki's also closing in, and though Mob is still in the lead, he feels the pressure in his chest rising.

_Sixty-seven._

When Mob's about halfway through the minefield there's another deafening explosion from the start of it, and then Midoriya is flying in front of Mob on a large metal plate.

_Seventy-nine._

Mob can feel his heartbeat in his chest, slamming against his ribs as he realizes Midoriya is diving head first towards the ground. He reaches a hand up and rights him, pushing him forward and creating a gust of air in his wake that pushes him, Bakugou, and Todoroki backward.

Then Midoriya lands at the end of the minefield, stumbling off of his metal plate. He makes a mad dash towards the exit, Mob, Bakugou, and Todoroki hot on his heels.

They all go into the darkened hallway at almost the same time.

"What an incredible turn of events right at the end folks!" Present Mic says over the speakers. "And it appears like the one to make it out of the obstacle course race first is no other then…

"Midoriya Izuku!"

**To be continued…**

**I just wanted to let you guys know that I made a discord for SATSS! If you like the fic, MP100, and BNHA and wanna chat about it, you're welcome to join!**

**It also came to my attention that one of the fanart links are working, so I'm reposting it here, so go check it out!**


	11. Above All Others

**Disclaimer: neither I or bunnyscribe own Mob Psycho 100 or My Hero Academia**

Above All Others

By: bunnyscribe (AO3)

The world slows down as Izuku feels every single eye in the crowd turn onto him, their stares weighing as heavy as the invisible burden that now rests on his shoulders. He clutches his fist by his side, feeling the tears welling up behind his eyes. Vicious thoughts bounce around in his head and he hates the bitter feeling of isolation his victory is causing him. After all, who would willingly take a ten million bounty on their head?

"-riya."

He's screwed, completely and inevitably screwed. He only has fifteen minutes to develop a strategy, and that's impossible if he can't even find a team in that time.

"Midoriya," says a stern voice from behind him.

Izuku jolts, spinning around so quickly that he almost falls solely by fumbling over his own feet. A hand grabs onto his arm, steadying him and suddenly Izuku finds himself face to face with Mob's blank stare.

"O-Oi! Mob!" Izuku exclaims, face growing bright red. He's immediately embarrassed to be caught so off guard, even though rationally he knows Mob would never judge him for something like that. He's quick to straighten himself back up and pulls his arm out of Mob's grip in order to better wipe his sweaty palms on his pants. "Wh-What's up?"

Mob studies his face with the same kind of intensity he seems to take to all things from math problems to casual conversations. The clock has ticked down at least thirty seconds by the time Mob's looking away, surveying the rest of the crowd. "You know better than me who else should be on our team, I think," he says. "I'll leave that to you."

"You..." Izuku starts, cutting himself off with a loud swallow. His eyes start watering from something entirely different than stress, his lip wobbles. "You want to be on my team?"

Mob tilts his head, expression flat. "We're friends," he says. "It'll be more fun this way."

"Bu-But!" Izuku says, flapping his arms around in the air. "You shouldn't want to be with me! Everyone will be coming after us! With me placing first and you placing third, we'll have so many points, we'll be such an obvious target! And, with Aiz-Aizawa. You could get expelled!"

Mob hums. "That's true I guess," he says passively, as though the threat their teacher placed over his head isn't really affecting him at all. Despite his tone, however, Izuku watches as he seems to forcibly relax his shoulders. "As long as I do my best it'll be fine...I think." He looks Izuku up and down, eyes narrowing like he's trying to put together a thousand piece puzzles in his head. Then he nods, seeming to find what he's looking for, and says, "You don't need to worry about me."

Izuku's mouth drops, every thought dropping out of his head. He must be being extremely obvious if even Mob's reading through him. "Mob, I-"

"Deku! Mob!" Uraraka says, rushing up to them. "Let's team up!"

After a few heartfelt assurances that Uraraka actually does want to team up with them and more than a few tears added into the mix on Izuku's part, Izuku quickly starts putting the pieces together and forming a plan in his head. They have a heavy hitter with Mob's telekinesis and added mobility with Uraraka's zero gravity, now all they need is speed and Izuku knows exactly where to find that.

"You'll have to forgive me Midoriya," Iida says when they find him. "Without a doubt, you all are my closest friends, but I am concerned with my ability to overcome obstacles on my own." He looks between Izuku and Mob who stands behind him, "I've been bested by the two of you at every turn and I cannot move forward if I continue to stand behind you. Therefore, I have decided to team with Todoroki for this event." He looks uncomfortable as he voices these thoughts aloud, but plows through with them with a conviction that Izuku can't help but respect.

It doesn't change the heavy amount of disappointment that Izuku feels though. "If that's what you feel is best Iida," he says. Then, to bolster himself back up, he straightens, curling his fist in front of him with a shaky smile. "Just know that we'll be waiting for you in the finals alright?"

"I'll be holding you to that," Iida says, managing a small smile back. "I wish you all luck in finding your last team member."

Izuku nods, and as Iida moves away, he turns back to his current team members. "Alright," he says, then pauses. "Alright."

"Well, that stinks," Uraraka says with a pout.

"I think..." Mob says, looking after Iida like he's still trying to process what exactly transpired. "He's doing what he thinks is best."

"Yeah," Izuku absently agrees, his brain already moving on despite the hurt lingering in his chest, "But there's still time to figure something else out." He brings a hand to his chin, closing his eyes. "We could always ask Sero? He doesn't have any extra speed, but as long as we-"

"YOU!"

There's suddenly a pair of hands on Izuku's shoulders, spinning him around with an excessive amount of force. Before he can blink there's a giant pair of googles right in his face. Izuku flinches and has a brief moment to wonder if this is how Mob feels when he's touched unexpectedly. "You placed first in the first challenge, didn't you? You're exactly what I need to show off my babies!"

"Excuse me?" Uraraka says, voice squeaking.

The girl backs up just enough that Izuku can take in her pink hair and a manic grin. "My babies!" she says, and then suddenly there's something being slung over his shoulders, solid, rectangular, and slightly heavy. He can't even comment on it before the girl takes a quick step back and presses a button on a small remote with an absolutely gleeful laugh.

Izuku is sent hovering upward, air pulsing out of the jet pack behind him. "Wh-Whoa!" he yelps, tumbling around a bit before straightening out. His surprise is almost immediately replaced by fascination though. "Is this based on Air-Jet's gear?"

"Yes! I made it with my own original twist on it though!" The girl exclaims, pressing the button again so Izuku lowers back to the ground. She immediately re-enters his space. "And that's not the only baby I have. I just know if I team up with you, my babies will undoubtedly be seen by companies all over. And you guys will be benefited by my talents as well of course."

"Excuse me," Mob interrupts lifting a hand up. "Who are you?"

The girl's laser focus moves off of Izuku and onto Mob. "Ah! You're the one in third place!" She moves in what seems to be a blur, suddenly in Mob's space grabbing his hands. He immediately starts to sweat, expression wobbling and eyes darting around.

"Excellent, excellent!" the girl says, completely oblivious to his discomfort. "My name is Hatsume Mei! I'm from the support course. We develop tons of inventions to help heroes out with their quirks, and I think I have just the babies to work for your needs."

"Hey," Uraraka says, not even hesitating before moving to step between Hatsume and Mob. She holds Hatsume at an arm's distance away. "He doesn't like to be touched."

Hatsume blinks, tilts her head, and nods. That's the only indication she gives that she understands though, very obviously moving forward on a single train of thought. She turns back to Izuku, manic grin finding itself naturally on her face. "So what do you say, Mr. Number One? Will you show off my babies?"

Izuku takes off the jetpack and stares at it for a second, before turning over to look at the rest of the inventions that she has laid out haphazardly. He looks at Mob and Uraraka, who in turn are staring at him expectantly, and at that moment he knows they'll go with whatever his judgment call is.

"Alright," he says. "Let's do this."

.-.-.

The event starts explosively, with so many teams after them that Mob can't even count them all. The sun beats down over them. Mob's starting to sweat, chest tight.

_Seventy-nine._

"Run away!" Midoriya orders immediately, arm sweeping through the air. Mob goes to take a step back, but finds the ground shifting below him, his feet sinking into it till he's up to his knees in goop.

"Uraraka, Hatsume! Watch out, I'm using the jetpack!"

Suddenly Mob's legs are freed and he's soaring forward, stomach lurching and trying not to feel sick.

Jiro's earplugs come at them next, aiming right for Midoriya's headband while he lifts an arm to guard it. "Mob, to your left! We need a shield!"

Mob puts up a wall of kinetic energy, letting the bud bounce harmlessly off of it.

"Now to the right!"

Mob moves the wall before he even thinks about it, shifting it over right before Tokoyami's Dark Shadow slams into it. Tsuyu's tongue follows immediately afterward, and Mob stretches the wall to catch that too.

"There are too many of them!" Uraraka says, pulling the group back as Jiro's earplugs fly toward them again and it's only their combined weightlessness that gets them out of range quickly enough.

"We're going up!" Midoriya yells and Mob hears the button click, and suddenly there's no ground beneath Mob's feet at all. In fact, they're getting further and further away from it. Mob feels nauseous.

There's a brief pause where everything slows down as they reach the peak of their ascent. Mob's realizes never been this high in the air before, he thinks as he looks at the tiny specks of people standing on the arena. Sure, he's made himself and his brother float when they were children and he used his quirk more frequently, but he's never flown before.

He quickly decides he likes it, despite the queasiness it took to make it up. It makes him feel a little separated from the chaos that they'd left below them. Some of the pressure eases from his chest.

_Seventy-four._

The relative ease is almost immediately smashed to pieces as a trail of explosions leaves him face to face with Bakugou.

"Don't get cocky bastards!" Bakugou yells, smoking hand reaching towards Midoriya.

"Mob! Push him back!" Midoriya yells.

Seventy-six.

Time seems to stop for a moment, Mob's breath hitching slightly in his throat at the suddenness of the attack. He thrusts his own hand out in response, trying his best not to hesitate as he pushes Bakugou back with a controlled burst of energy.

Bakugou looks like the air was knocked out of him, mouth parted in an o shape. His wide eyes meet Mob's on his descent, and just like that he's plummeting back to earth, pulled by Sero's tape.

Their team hits the ground a few moments afterward, but even then there's no time for a break as Todoroki's team rounds on them. Todoroki sports three other bands around his neck, his hand hover next to them as though already preparing to add Midoriya's to the collection.

.-.-.

Katsuki feels the pull on his bands but doesn't really register what's happening until a few seconds after they're gone. His head swivels and met with the sight of a smug faced bastard, twirling his missing band around his finger.

"You're too simple-minded, Class A," he says, slipping the band around his neck.

Katsuki can feel the blood boiling underneath his skin. Granted that it's not only this extra's fault, at every turn of this tournament so far he has been bested and humiliated by Deku and his stupid bowl cutted sidekick, and losing his band this quickly just adds insult to injury. "Give that back fuckface!" he shouts. "I'll kill you!"

"He got us!" Raccoon Eyes says, spinning to face the other team's horse so quickly that Bakugou jolts forward before steadying himself by clutching onto Kirishima's shoulders.

"Now now," the kid says. "Don't be crude. It's not my fault you're so foolish. Rushing after some fleeting first place in the first round, rather than thinking of the long game. Then again you couldn't even do that successfully, could you? What with getting fourth place and all."

Bakugou's eye twitches. "What did you just say to me?"

"How does feel to genuinely lose to a kid who gets stage fright?" the kid says. "You'll have to tell me about that once this is all over, I'm curious."

Bakugou feels something in him snap, teeth grinding together in his rage. "Change of plans," he growls. "Before I get Deku's stupid band…I'm gonna murder every last one of you!"

.-.-.

Shoto is not surprised when he sees that Midoriya and Kageyama have combined forces, but he is wary. He is not foolish enough to not underestimate either of them. Midoriya's proven himself to be extremely tactically minded from what he's seen during their heroic exercises and in class. As for Kageyama, well, Shoto was at USJ when everything happened.

There's not much explanation needed beyond that is there?

Neither of them is infallible, however, Midoriya breaks his bones whenever he tries to use his strength and Kageyama has no idea how to use his powers beyond the obvious. It's why the two compliment each other so well, Kageyama playing the brute strength to Midoriya's brains. And if that's the case, all Shoto has to do is give neither of them any time to think.

Both their teams sit across from each other in the small arena that Shoto made around them, eyeing each other but making no movements yet. Shoto is faced with a sullen looking Midoriya, eyes alive with determination.

They've been at this game of cat and mouse for a while now. Kageyama's abilities have made it exceedingly difficult to pin them down, so versatile that any attempt to shock or freeze them has been completely ineffective. And with Midoriya taking the reins on directing him, he seems to show little to none of the hesitation that he did in class exercises. The closest they got to a strike was an attack from a javelin Yazorozu created, but in the end that was knocked away. Even pushed to the edge of the field, the other team feels almost invincible.

They might have a chance, however, if the sparking jetpack on Midoriya's back has anything to say about it.

They're down to a minute on the clock at this point. "We have to be quick, we can't give Kageyama time to defend them," Shoto tells his teammates. "Kaminari, can you still shock them?"

"Wehhh," Kaminari responds. Shoto sighs, thoughts racing as he tries to come up with another plan.

"Todoroki," Iida says, and Shoto can feel the other boy tensing beneath him. "I have an idea and I am going to execute it. Make sure you are prepared to grab the band."

After a terrifying second where the world blurs past him, Todoroki finds himself clutching a band of fabric worth a million points in his hand.

.-.-.

"After them!" Midoriya yells.

"There's no time!" Hatsume says. "We should go after the teams that are still frozen!"

"There's too big a difference in points!" Midoriya says, voice high and panicky. "We'll never win if we do that! We have to go for it!"

_Seventy-seven._

Mob feels a burning in his chest, some strong desire clutching at his heart. His legs feel like jelly from all the running, but at the same time, they are restless, ready to move forward. He stares at the bands around Todoroki neck, one of them hiding a million points.

_Seventy-seven._

All of his team want to win. He knows that, seen the determination on their faces plain as day. He thinks of how Uraraka talked about her family, he thinks about Hatsume's excitement when she explained her inventions, he thinks of the lengths Midoriya goes to improve.

_Seventy-seven._

Before he can think about it, his legs start moving.

"Mob?" Uraraka squeaks.

"We're going to get it back!" Mob calls.

Before Mob can blink again, they're face to face with the other team, Midoriya's hand stretching out towards Todoroki's neck. Mob feels heat in the air for just a second before Midoriya's hand swishes through the air and blows it away. At that moment, Mob has an idea, his own hand reaching out in an unnatural act of quick thinking. His tugs at the band around Todoroki's head with his quirk.

"GAME OVER!" Present Mic shouts over the intercom, voice vibrating throughout the stadium.

Bakugou lands with a thud next to Mob, falling out of the sky from seeming nowhere, arms stretched forward in an aborted attack. Mob stares at him as he slams his fist against the ground in rage, and when he picks his head up their eyes meet.

Todoroki's headband sits in Mob's loosely curled fingers, sporting over six hundred points. Bakugou's eyes drift to it and then back up to Mob's face, his expression going blank.

"...And in fourth place is Team Midoriya!" Present Mic says. "Moving onto the next round by the skin of their teeth!"

Mob looks away from Bakugou, turning back to his teammates in order to comfort a wailing and enthusiastic Midoriya.

.-.-.

Midoriya disappears immediately after the cavalry battle it seems like. One second he's behind Mob, and the next he's turning his head to the empty space where the boy had been. He stops, and Uraraka, walking next to him, pauses as well.

"Ahh," she says, quickly coming to the same realization. "Where'd Deku go?"

"I don't know," Mob says. "Should we go look for him?"

Uraraka opens her mouth to respond but is cut immediately cut off.

"Hey, you."

Mob turns back to find himself face to face with Bakugou. The other boy has arms crossed, brow furrowed downward. When Mob catches his eyes, his lip twitches like he's sucking on something sour.

"Me?" Mob asks after a pause, pointing towards himself.

"Yeah, you dumbass," Bakugou growls, teeth grinding. His face slowly smooths into something calmer, a look that Mob has never seen on him before. "I want to talk to you." He eyes Uraraka. "Alone."

Uraraka takes another step forward, protectively shielding Mob. She narrows her eyes. "Whatever you have to say, you can say it to the both of us."

Bakugou's expression darkens. "Listen Round Face," he says, ignoring the little-offended noise Uraraka makes. "Go stick your nose in a pile of shit and keep it out of my business."

Uraraka huffs, hands clenched into fists by her sides. "Do you really think I'm going to let you talk to Mob alone if you're going to say stuff like that?!"

Bakugou opens his mouth to snap back and Mob makes a decision to step in before things escalate any further. He settles a hand on Uraraka shoulder, and her head snaps towards him, eyes blazing.

"It's ok Uraraka," Mob says. "Go get lunch with the others."

Uraraka's face softens. She shifts her eyes to Bakugou and then back again. "Are you sure Mob?" she asks slowly.

"It'll be fine," Mob says and looks over at Bakugou. "...I think."

Uraraka bites her lip, eyes moving between the two of them again. "If you're sure?" she says, and it comes out more like a question.

Mob nods. "Yes."

Uraraka pauses for another few seconds before she actually starts moving toward the cafeteria, and she continues to look back at the two of them until she disappears through the doors inside.

Bakugou huffs, turning away from where he was watching her. "She's stubborn as hell isn't she?" he says.

Mob nods. "Uraraka is very strong," he agrees before turning to Bakugou, "What did you need?"

Bakugou's mouth drops open before snapping shut. "You," he says, the word stretching out like it's almost painful to say. "I saw what you did." He looks down at his fist as to avoid Mob's eyes. "You could have won the race, with your power, there's no fucking doubt about that. But you pushed Deku forward instead." He looks back up at Mob meaningfully, studying him. "Why?"

Mob tilts his head, "He could have gotten hurt."

Bakugou snorts, and then starts laughing, curling into himself. Mob isn't quite sure what's funny. He thinks of a crowd of smiling faces in a basement, all cheerful for reasons he can't understand, and feels uncomfortable.

"Everyone could've gotten hurt in that fucking race, that was the entire point," Bakugou says, voice full of contempt. "It was weeding out the weak, the ones who couldn't handle the second round."

Mob just hums, unsure of how to proceed in the face of such blatant anger. "I think you're taking it too seriously," he tells him in an attempt to diffuse the situation. "It's just a game."

Bakugou sneers at him, face scrunching up like it isn't quite sure what to do with itself. "You can't just treat this like some- some regular sports festival!" he says, voice rising in frustration. "It's nothing like that!"

"Then what it is?" Mob asks, genuinely curious.

"It's just a test," Bakugou says. "You should know that- I know you know that. I know red eyes threatened you with explusion, that's what got your ass in gear didn't it?" He takes a step forward, an accusing finger poking right into Mob's chest, and face turning smug like he's downright certain of his answer. "Right?"

Mob can feel the sweat starting to bead on his forehead. "Ah," he says, raising his hands up placatingly. "I'm sorry, but you're wrong."

Bakugou's face does some funny things as he seems to struggle with processing what Mob said. Mob waits patiently. "Hun?" he finally manages.

"I wanted to win for my friends," Mob says, "that is all."

Bakugou leans back, looking like all the wind was knocked out of him. "Do you…" he starts, and stops. "Do you even have feelings of your own?" he says, voice dead. "Do you even have your own ambitions?"

Mob feels himself freeze. A voice in his head says, _"I hope you find something you really want." _His mouth opens but any words he might have had died in his throat.

Bakugou studies his face and then snorts. "That's what I thought." He turns around, moving towards the woods surrounding the arena. "If you're not here to win for yourself, then stay the fuck out of my way."

Mob watches him take a few steps, thoughts churning in circles as the other boy moves away. He thinks of Midoriya, of what they talked about on the beach. He thinks of this as he opens his mouth again and says, "Wait."

Bakugou stops abruptly, looking back over his shoulder at Mob. "What's it now?"

"I made the decision recently to really think about what I want, and I think," Mob says and pauses, looking down at his shaking fingers. "-I think I'm still thinking about that. I'm sorry."

Bakugou stares at him, wide-eyed. "You're-" he says, "You're apologizing to me?!"

Mob nods. "I don't understand you," he admits, "You're mean to people who just want to be your friends, you hurt people, you hurt me." He stares at Bakugou, studying his face. "But you're also very smart and talented, even I see you could be a great hero. So why don't you try to be nicer?"

"I'm not here to be nice," Bakugou growls, spinning back towards Mob. "I'm here to become the world's greatest hero, and I won't stop until I do. I'll surpass everyone here to do it, even All Might. You're all just stepping stones to me."

Mob blinks, suddenly struck by a moment of insight. "Ah, I see," he says. "You're a little like me, I think." He points back and forth between the two of them as if trying to draw some invisible line to connect them. "You're scared, not of your own power, but of what you'd be without them. I once had no friends, I did not stand out, nobody paid me any attention at all. You're scared of being like that, you're scared of being the same as everyone else."

Bakugou's jaw drops before his face contorts into fury. "Don't mock me!" he snaps, taking an aggressive step towards Mob. "I'm am nothing- fucking nothing like you! I'm not scared of anything!" His palms crackle, smoke hissing out of them. "Goddamnit! I can't- I can't even-" he starts tripping over his words in his rage. "All this time, you've been looking down on me! Why won't you just take me seriously?"

"I am not looking down on you," Mob says. "I am looking at you like an equal, and that scares you."

Bakugou screams in a wordless fury, the corners of his eyes clotting with angry tears. "Shut up!" he says. "Just shut up!"

"Bakugou," Mob says. "I want to be friends with you."

Bakugou stops as if someone had just hit the pause button on him. He makes a sound of something being stepped on, a couple of tears rolling down his cheeks.

"I don't think you're ready for that though," Mob continues, "but I'll be here when you are." He glances towards the cafeteria doors and then back to Bakugou. "I'm going to get lunch now. You probably should too before the next event is announced."

When Mob reaches the doors, he glances back to Bakugou one last time, standing exactly where he left him. His fists are clenched to his sides and even with the distance, Mob can see him shaking so hard that he looks like he's vibrating.

_Eighty-two percent._

Mob steps inside.

**To be continued… **

**Hi! :D**

**I've been wrestling this chapter amidst some life stuff for so long and it is with great joy that I can say it is finally complete! I hope you all really enjoy it, I've been really excited to get this part of the arc and I hope it shows, lol.**

**As always, I have a tumblr where I'm open to answering questions about SATSS and there's also a discord for the story! :D**

**Have a great day/night wherever you are!**


	12. Chant for Victories That Feel Like Loss

**Disclaimer: Neither I or bunnyscribe own My Hero Academia or Mob Psycho 100 **

**Chant for Victories That Feel Like Losses**

By: bunnyscribe (AO3)

**Note from MNL: Hey, just gonna put the list of matches here since the original list was displayed in an image, so here you go!**

**Mob vs Shinsou, Bakugo vs Uraraka, Mina vs Sero, Kirishima vs Tetsutetsu, Shouto vs Aoyama, Momo vs Izuku, Mei vs Iida, Kendo vs Kaminari**

"Come on Midoriya, we should at least relax a little bit don't you think?" Sero says, bringing his hands up behind his head with a large grin.

After the names were drawn for the next round and the matches decided, Mob finds himself huddled up with his friends as they naturally seemed to move towards each other in the crowd. Midoriya barely seems to notice that Mob, Uraraka, and Sero have surrounded him, staring up at the glowing board with all the matches written on it and muttering up a storm, barely pausing for breath.

"I mean, we made it this far in the festival, you know? We at least deserve like, what, thirty minutes to hang out and play stupid games?" Sero continues. "Dwelling on what's next is no way to live."

Midoriya pauses in his mumbling to give him a doubtful look, thumb pressed up against his mouth. "We should at least start planning," he says. "Getting this far means nothing if we don't have an idea of what's coming up next. Aren't you worried at all?"

"Nope!" Sero says, popping the p. "Not at all." He ruffles Midoriya's hair, ignoring the choked sound he makes. "You're just overthinking this way too much. It's gonna be fine! I mean, look at Mob." He gestures at him, "Take a page out of his book, he's not even fazed. The true picture of calm stoicism right there."

Mob blinks, caught unaware as he's suddenly pulled into the conversation. "That's not true," he says, voice entirely deadpan. "I'm nervous too."

_Eighty-two._

Uraraka snorts from beside him, close enough to be nearly brushing against him. She's practically glued herself to his side since he returned to the lunch room after his conversation with Bakugou, though he can't quite figure out why. He's trying not to feel bothered by it, but right now everything seems like it's too much, even the earplugs he put back in aren't helping as much as the did before.

He hasn't said anything about it though, not wanting to make her feel bad, especially since she hasn't actually touched him.

"Sero's right then!" she says. "If even you're nervous, we should do something to get our minds off it," she says. "Why don't we play some of the games? I think they're getting ready to start those."

Midoriya's frown deepens, but he pulls his thumb away from his mouth. He stares at Mob, looking at him in a way that somehow reminds Mob of Reigen's more serious moments. "I'll do whatever Mob wants to do," he says.

Mob's chest clenches as all three pairs of eyes turn towards him, and he feels a couple beads of sweat roll down his forehead as he tries to turn the idea over in his head. He suddenly realizes he's not particularly inclined one way or another, which somehow makes the pressure over deciding more intense.

"Dude," Sero says with a laugh. "Stop, you look like you're about to blow a fuse over there." He holds out a fist towards Mob, grinning at him. "How bout this? One game of rock-paper-scissors, you versus me. If I win, we go have some fun. If you win, we'll pour over Midoriya's nerd notes or whatever. Sound good?"

Mob stares at Sero's fist for a few moments too long, long enough that Sero's arm wavers, before holding out his own. "That sounds fair," he says, and is immediately rewarded with Sero's grin widening.

"Awesome," Sero says. "Two out of three then. Ready, set, throw!"

Two rounds of rather intense rock-paper-scissors later, Mob loses zero to two. He doesn't really feel bad about it though, because both Uraraka and Sero look very obviously happy.

"Alright!" Uraraka yells, clapping her hands together. "Games it is then!"

She grabs Mob's hand, and before he has time to flinch away, she latches onto Midoriya's too for good measure. "Come on, come on! We gotta hurry, it looks like they're passing out cards for the scavenger hunt now!"

She only pulls them a few steps when Ojiro steps in front of her blocking her path.

"Ojiro?" Midoriya says, voice going up in pitch. "Did you need something?"

Ojiro doesn't look at any of them, instead wringing his hands together in front of him. His tail swishes back and forth aggressively across the ground, and Mob is reminded of an anxious dog his master had recused from some rowdy kids in the neighbourhood who had decided it would be fun to throw rocks at it. He had been much younger at the time and it was the very first he had seen his master truly upset about something. The dog had cowered at the sight of it, and his master's face had smoothed out, immediately pulling out dog treats from seemingly nowhere.

"Kageyama, may I speak to you?" Ojiro asks, interrupting the memory. His eyes dart up for a moment, mouth drawn in thin line, before quickly looking back at the ground. "Alone?"

Mob's mind immediately goes blank.

Ojiro had never approached him after the incident at USJ, and Mob had never attempted to seek him out. He still has no idea of what he wants to say to him yet, and had been doing his best not to think about it at all. He opens his mouth, and then closes it. An 'I'm sorry,' sits heavy on his tongue despite not feeling like a strong enough word choice to convey what he wants to say.

"Sure," he says instead.

Ojiro nods and starts to move away, Mob trailing awkwardly behind him. He can feel stares on the back of his head and looks over his shoulder to find his friends watching him. Midoriya in particular looks upset, though Mob can think of no reason why he should be.

"You can start without me," he says. "I'll be back in time to join you."

"If you're sure dude," Sero says slowly.

"Do you want me to come wait for you?" Midoriya asks, stepping forward.

Mob glances at Ojiro, who has paused to wait for him, then back at the others. "No," he says, "it'll be fine, I think."

"Kageyama," Ojiro says. "Are you coming?"

Mob hesitates, then lifts a hand to wave at his friends. "I'll be back," he tells them, before turning back around.

Ojiro leads him into the room that they got ready in, and, without waiting for Mob, he throws himself into one of the chairs. His eyes close and he props himself up with his elbows, looking tired.

Mob pauses, trying to think of what he should do next. "...Are you alright?" he asks eventually.

This gets Ojiro to actually look at him, eyes wide, and then he huffs, looking away just as quickly. "I'm fine," he says.

Mob hums. "I don't know if you're being honest," he says bluntly. "What did you want to talk to me about?"

Ojiro looks at him oddly, face twitching as though it's not quite sure what to do with itself. "I-" he says. "At USJ- I mean- I just wanted to tell you-" He stops.

The pressure in Mob's chest gathers, and suddenly he finds it a bit hard to breath. The air is taut, like a pulled out string. "Yes?" he eventually manages.

"I'm sorry," Ojiro says. "I just- I feel like I need to apologize to you first." He runs a hand through his hair. "I should've noticed how bad off you were and figured something else out."

"No," Mob says, and the conviction in his voice surprises the both of them if the look on Ojiro's face is anything to go by.

"No?"

Mob stares at him, trying to piece together what he wants to say. "You shouldn't apologize," he settles on. "I should." He bows his head. "I didn't know what I wanted, and I hurt you because of that. I'm sorry."

The next pause goes on long enough for even Mob to notice it and when he picks his head back, he finds Ojiro smiling at him. It's small and strained, but it's still there. "I guess we were both kinda in the wrong there, hun?"

Mob's not sure how to respond to that. "I guess," he says.

Ojiro studies him intensely, and then sighs. "Look," he says, "that isn't all I brought you in here to talk about. I'm sure you can guess, with your first fight and all, but I feel like I need to give you a heads up anyway."

Mob tilts his head, gears turning in his mind for anything else there could be but coming up empty. "What is it?"

Ojiro mouth tilts downward. "The guy you're fight against, he's the reason I dropped out."

Mob blinks, confused. It's not an unfamiliar feeling, but uncomfortable nonetheless. "Why?"

"It's his quirk," Ojiro says, running his hand through his hair again and glaring intently at the floor. "It's some sort of brainwashing of some kind, I don't know."

"Oh," Mob says, and it takes a second for him to truly understand the weight of that. "Oh."

"That's what I wanted to tell you," Ojiro says. "All I know is that when I spoke to him, everything went blank afterwards. I think that's how it works, you have to talk to him."

"What do I do if I talk to him?"

"Well," Ojiro says, bringing his hand up to his mouth in a move that reminds him of Midoriya. "I came back too when I got bumped into, so my guess is you need physical contact to break it. You can't really count on that though since it's one on one." He glances sharply at Mob. "So don't say anything, no matter what."

Mob processes that, thinks about how easily it would be to lose after coming so far. He thinks about winning for his friends, he thinks about Midoriya's nervousness, thinks about Bakugou.

He doesn't vocalize this. "I won't," he says instead.

The small, tight smile appears back on Ojiro's face and suddenly he's standing. He goes to pat Mob shoulder, but stops when he jerks away from the contact. His smile twitches, but he just as easily switches to a thumbs up.

"Do me a favor, Kageyama," he says, "and win this."

.-.-.

"I just can't believe you were hiding such a super cool secret power move from us!" Uraraka says, pouting at Iida. "It's just not fair!"

Iida gestures, arm swinging up and down as though it was sitting on a pivot. "I told you already! It's not as though I was just trying to be secretive or anything of the sort!"

"Yeah," Sero says, poking Uraraka's shoulder from behind her and wearing a wide grin. "And I mean, you got admit it was pretty cool of him, whipping something out like that at last second."

"Besides," Iida says, stiffly turning back to the arena. "My goal was to prove myself to all of you, I think doing the unexpected was a good way of accomplishing that. Especially to Midoriya, whose strategies usually revolve around quick thinking."

At the mention of his name, Izuku looks up from where he was staring at the back of Todoroki's head. "Hun?" he asks smartly. He feels all his friend's eyes move onto him, and looks back and forth between Uraraka and Iida who sit on either side of him. "What?"

Uraraka frowns at him. "Are you ok Deku?" she says, "You've been acting funny since lunch."

Izuku blinks, a bit thrown off kilter as he tries to shift gears. His thoughts feel like they've been stretched in all directions for the last hour or so, and he finds himself cycling through all the different anxieties that the day has presented to him. It doesn't really feel like he has space in his head for much else, but he tries to force himself back to the present moment, sparing one last glance at Todoroki before turning his attention back to his friends.

"Sorry," he says with a sheepish grin. "You don't have to worry about me, I'm just getting a little bit nervous with all the waiting."

Uraraka bites her lips, eyes darting to the arena and back to him, and he immediately knows that she's thinking about Mob. "I know what you mean," she says, reaching out to pat his shoulder. "But it's gonna be fine. He'll do his best, I just know it."

And that brings up an entirely different concern for Izuku: Mob. He hasn't seen the other boy since he disappeared with Ojiro after the matches were announced, despite promising he'd be back.

Ojiro is there though, sitting a couple rows ahead and a little to the right, in the middle of what seems to be a deep conversation with Tokoyami. Izuku kind of wants to go interrupt, but it's both politeness and anxiety that keeps him from going over. He can connect the dots though, even without discussing it without Ojiro.

Whoever Mob is fighting in the first round was the same person who Ojiro was teamed up with during the cavalry battle, and going off the assumption that he dropped out of afterwards because of memory issues, he can only assume that Ojiro pulled him aside to talk about whatever quirk the boy had that affected him. But what kind of quirk could cause memory issues like that? And for what purpose what you use it on team members trying to help you?

A long finger taps Izuku's shoulder.

Izuku startles, spine straightening out, and looks behind him to find Tsuyu looking at him intently.

"You were mumbling a lot," Tsuyu says with a croak. "Are you nervous?"

"I-" Izuku starts and stops, eyes darting to the arena and back. "Yeah, I guess I am." He sighs, bringing his thumb up to his mouth so he can bite on it. "I just- I wanted to wish Mob luck before his fight."

Tsuyu blinks slowly at him. "I'm sure he knows."

"Oooh!" Uraraka says, suddenly latching onto Izuku's arm. "Look! I think it's starting!"

Mob appears first, exiting the tunnel on the left side. Izuku can't see his expression from this far out, covered entirely by his signature bowl cut as it bobs along towards the arena. There's hesitancy in each one of steps, as if he's considering every move he's making carefully even before the fight has begun.

On the other side of the field, Shinsou emerges, posture loose and relaxed. He looks calm and stone faced, even from this distance. It's a different type of calm stoicism than Mob's or even Tsuyu's though. His is less thoughtful and more closed off, guarded. A choice rather than something natural to him.

"The first match!" Present Mic shouts over the speakers, and Izuku almost falls out of his seat.

"Looking as bland as possible, but still packing quite the punch is Kageyama Shigeo from the hero course! Verus, this guy who we really don't know anything about from the general studies course Shinsou Hitoshi!

"Remember, the rules are simple! Win by defeating your opponent, whether that's immobilizing them or getting them to give up is up to you! Bring on the pain, good ole Recovery Girl is on standby so do whatever you need to! Just no going for the kill though, remember folks, only villians do that! Now is everybody ready?!"

Mob and Shinsou stand across from each other, staring each other down. Izuku can feel the immediate tension in the air, even with all the crowd's excitement buzzing through the air. He bites down on his thumb, watching in anticipation.

"Begin!" yells Present Mic.

.-.-.

Mob's not to sure what to do when the fight starts.

He's not sure Shinsou is either, as they just stand across from each other, watching, neither making a move. Shinsou looks him up and down, eyes sharp and judgemental.

"You know," Shinsou says after a minute. "You seem like a really pathetic dude."

Mob opens his mouth and then clicks it shut, remembering Ojiro's warning.

"You seem to have so much power. I mean, you obviously don't look like much, but after watching you in those first two competitions…"

Mob takes a step forward, uncertain of where this is going.

"It's clear that you really got the lucky ticket, hun?" Shinsou slouches, hands going into his pockets. "With a power like that, there's no stopping you from doing whatever you want. And you seem like such a pushover that of course people are going to be clamoring all over you to get a hold of it."

The air gets tenser, a foreboding hanging over the arena that Mob can't put a name too.

"I guess, I just want to ask...Do you think friends even care about you?" Shinsou asks, face impassive, eyes piercing. "Or are they just using you for your power?"

"You're wrong," Mob says reflexively. "My friends-"

"Got you."

_Zero percent._

Mob's mind goes fuzzy, filling with a static that reaches the deepest parts of his subconscious. Every bit of pressure that had been building up in him throughout the day disappears, like the weight has been lifted from his shoulders and he's handed it over to someone else.

It feels amazing.

His body turns around without him asking it to, feet dragging him forward. His vision paints over red and black, surrounded by the colors appearing in long, seemingly never ending streaks. They rush past him, washing over him in a way he knows should be overwhelming, but isn't.

It isn't?

His body takes another step- he needs to stop, why does he need to stop?- He walks upon ground that no longer looks still, that flows underneath his feet like an angry river - he needs - he doesn't want, not like this -

He doesn't _want _this.

It's that realization that snaps him back into himself, allows him to think just a bit more clearly. Other colors start slipping into the sides of his vision again, though the shapes still are spotty and out of focus. Those hues of red and black that had been tunneling around him start gathering together, forming the shape of a person in front of him.

The shape looks about his size, similar in height and build, but it doesn't seem to be holding itself together right. The edges of it flicker and blur, smudging the air around it. It stands just outside the boundary line Mob is still walking towards, just watching him as he gets closer.

"This is your loss, Kageyama," Shinsou says from somewhere behind them, his voice muted.

Mob's only a couple steps away from the figure now, from the end of the match. Pressure is steadily leaking back into him, like a facet left dripping. The person watches.

_? ? ?_

And then it raises its hand, and Mob is pushed back into the arena in a burst of energy.

His back scrapes against the concrete, pain shooting all the way down his spine. He gasps desperately for air. Everything that had been weighing on him before clicks back into place, pouring into him again, and he feels tears start burning paths down his cheeks as though they were fire spreading across a line of gasoline.

_Eighty eight. Eighty eight. Eighty eight._

"What?" Shinsou says, shocked. "What did you just do? Did you just use your quirk?"

Mob presses his palm against the ground, struggling to push himself upright. He looks up at Shinsou, their eyes meeting.

Shinsou's teeth are clamped together, sweat dripping down his cheek. "What? Nothing to say now?"

Mob stands on unsteady legs, breathing heavily.

Eighty eight.

"Ha," Shinsou huffs. "Someone like you...you are really blessed aren't you?"

Mob takes a shaky step towards Shinsou. Then another.

"Thanks to my quirk, I didn't even stand a chance compared to you!" Shinsou yells, grinning, a wild look in his eyes. "You people born with awesome quirks, you really are better off than all of us aren't you?!"

Mob's running at him now, legs moving without knowing what he's going to do next.

"Getting to follow your dreams!" And then Shinsou's moving towards him too, stepping forward. "In a world meant just for you!"

Mob stretches out his arms and grabs Shinsou's shoulders, pushing him backward towards the edge of the arena.

Shinsou's mouth parts into an o, stumbling back a couple feet. The surprise doesn't last long, his face sets in grim determination and he reels back a fist, punching Mob squarely in the face.

Time seems to slow for a second, long enough for Mob to think through his adrenaline. _Is this right? _he wonders. _Am I making my master proud of me?_

Then Shinsou punches him again and something in his nose cracks. Mob's head flings back and Shinsou takes the opportunity to push it further back away from him, hand pressing against his cheek.

Mob reaches up and grabs his arm, twisting at it. And then, with his quirk, he pushes sending Shinsou sliding on his back out of the ring.

"Shinsou's out of the ring!" Midnight yells.

Mob stands, taking a couple steps till he's looming over Shinsou, and feels blood dripping down his face. He can't seem to catch his breath.

"And with that Kageyama moves on to the next round!"

Shinsou's face is pinched, eyes squeezed shut and teeth held tightly together. Neither of them move, suspended in a fight that just ended.

Mob blinks, the pressure in his chest pushing upward and burning like bile. He looks at his shaking hands, then up at the crowded stadium, roaring in applause for the violence that they just witnessed, and he wonders if Midoriya and his friends are among them.

_Ninety._

.-.-.

Hitoshi sneers at Kageyama as he offers out a hand to help him up. He ignores it, instead pushing himself up with a hiss of breath as his back protests the movement.

He's unsure if he's more mad at himself for the loss or the other boy for reaffirming everything he already knows. But what he is certain of is that he that he just wants to get out of the spotlight and go lick his wounds in private. He shoots Kageyama one last glance.

The other kid looks absolutely pathetic, like he just lost instead of the other way around. His face is entirely blank, like he's shell shocked, hand still stretched out from where it was reaching out to help him. Blood drips from his nose, running down his face in a steady line.

Hitoshi scoffs, turning around to walk out of the arena.

"Good job!"

It's that first shout that reaches him. He looks up and sees a couple of students in his class smiling down at him, pressed against the rails of the bleachers. The girl who sits next him waves.

"You did awesome out there!" she yells. "Had me on the edge of my seat, you know?"

The cheers ripple outward from there, and Hitoshi watches, awestruck, as more and more of the crowd starts to applaud him.

His breath stutters in his throat.

"Shinsou," Kageyama says, voice so soft that it barely reaches him from the noise in the stands.

He turns around to find Kageyama staring at him, expression still stuck in that seemingly perpetual surprise. "What do you want?" he asks.

"What you said is wrong," Kageyama says. "About my friends and about yourself."

"Oh, yeah?" Hitoshi says, trying to keep his voice as neutral as Kageyama's so as not to give him the upper hand. "And what do you mean by that?"

"My friends are not using me," he says, and then pauses before he speaks again. His head lowers so his face is covered in thick shadows despite the sun bearing down on them. "I am not so pathetic as to be pushed around like that."

Hitoshi stares blankly at him, and then snorts. "You realize I just said that to get a rise out of you, right?"

Kageyama hums, picking his head back up. His expression doesn't change, but Hitoshi can almost sense the way the curveball hits him. "I guess," he says. "But the other things you said weren't a lie."

"Oh?"

"My quirk makes me no better than you," Kageyama says. "We are equals."

Hitoshi laughs before he can even stop himself, one high pitched "Ha!" that he cuts off immediately. "That's bullshit," he says, sneering, because how dare he? "We live in a society built just for people like you, quirks like mine are shunned and demonized."

Mob studies him, saying nothing. "We…" he says, stops, and then starts again. "My quirk really isn't that useful. It doesn't help me live a better life."

Hitoshi just looks at him, incredulously. "You're here aren't you?" he asks. "Your quirk has gotten you where you want to be, right? Your quirk has gotten yourself friends, right?"

"I-"

"Listen," Hitoshi cuts him off. "None of us can can help what we want, but none of us can change the fact that society also tries to shoehorn us into certain roles depending on the circumstances of our birth. You got lucky, congrats, but not all of us do."

He waits for Kageyama to say something, and when he doesn't, Hitoshi pushes forward. "I failed this time, but I won't fail again," he says. "I'll prove them all wrong."

Hitoshi looks out into the cheering crowd again. "They'll consider transfers to the hero course depending on our performance here, remember that," he says.

"...Right," Kageyama says eventually.

Shinsou starts walking off the stage again. "And Kageyama?" he says. "Don't lose in a stupid way that makes me look bad."

**To be continued…**

**Hello guys! :D**

**This chapter is finished! I've been super excited for Mob's first fight and it was super fun to write, so I hope you guys enjoy it as well!**

**As always, there is a discord and my tumblr where you can ask my questions about SATSS!**

**Also, I've gotten a ton of really cool art which is super, super exciting! So go check it out! ^o^**

**Note from MNL: Alright everyone, this is the last of chapters available, so don't expect another one from this story too soon, okay? Be sure to show your support on AO3 for them there as well if you can :) **


	13. Shigeo Kageyama: Origin (Part 2)

**Disclaimer: Neither I or bunnyscribe own Mob Psycho 100 or My Hero Academia**

**Shigeo Kageyama: Origin (Part 2)**

By: bunnyscribe (AO3)

_Eighty-six._

After the fight, things seem to go by in a haze. Mob knows he gets patched up by Recovery Girl. Even after he leaves, he can feel her lips against his cheek and the gentle nudge of vitamin gummies into his hand, the metallic wrapping crunching beneath his fingers as he curls his fingers into a fist. She talks to him, he knows she does, and he knows he talks back, a "Thank you" maybe.

His brain feels it's been coated in a thick fog though and before he knows it, he's walking down an empty hallway.

His first instinct is panic. He thinks about the fuzzy feeling in his head when he was brainwashed, the feeling of his feet moving without him thinking about it, and his chest gets tighter.

His feet stop moving. He finds himself standing in front of the doors to the preparation room that he had went to with Ojiro just before his first match. He stares at it, carefully lifts up his hand, and opens it.

There's no one there.

Something easy and gentle sits on top of all the other feelings building inside him, a sense of relief, but even that feels like too much.

He sits down in one of the chairs, back ramrod straight and body tense. He lifts up his hands to put them on the table and finds them shaking. He tries to take a deep breath, tries to think about better things and break through his cloudy headedness. Texting Midoriya, Uraraka's smile, takoyaki with Master Reigen.

Master Reigen.

His head snaps up with alarming speed, and the world spins as he tries to catch up with the fact that he didn't even realize it was rolling forward.

Master Reigen would've been watching the fight, wouldn't he? He said he would and he's never broken his word before.

His stomach drops down to his feet, blood going cold in his veins. Would his master be proud of what he did?

He had hurt someone, he was able to hurt someone without even using his quirk. He had done it without even thinking about it.

He can still Shinsou's face, grimacing up at him. He had been covered in Mob's shadow as he stood over him, the loser, the pain in his expression clear as day.

Mob stands abruptly, breaths coming out in quick bursts. He moves mechanically towards where he knows he left his bag, pulling it out from underneath the bench, and then digs through it until he finds what he's looking for.

His cellphone seems too bright and cheerful compared to everything else that's been happening today. All Might's colorful palette, his stars, and stripes, everything that invokes the image of what a true hero should be.

Mob flips it open, opens his contacts. He hesitates when he sees Midoriya's name in them, glancing over at the door like he expects the other boy to be summoned by the thought of his name. The door stays closed, however, and Mob presses the call button.

The phone only rings twice before someone picks up.

"Oi, Mob," Reigen says, sounding unconcerned. "About time you called."

His voice is so calm that Mob can almost feel like it's an ordinary day. Like maybe hero training at the end of the day ran over, and maybe Mob was just late to work, and maybe all he has to do is get changed and head over. But it isn't and somehow the realization of that only makes it worse.

"Master…" Mob says after a moment, face twitching. "I...The fight…"

"Yeah, I saw," Reigen says.

The line goes silent for a breath. Reigen sighs.

"I'm sorry Mob," he says suddenly. "That looked like it was really rough. I'm sorry you had to do that."

Something in Mob's chest clenches, his breath stuttering. "I-"

"I don't know what I was thinking," Reigen says. "I just...I guess I thought, with everything that happened-I don't know. I'm sorry though."

"Master, I don't understand," Mob says. "Why are you apologizing?"

A beat. "That wasn't something you should have had to do," Reigen says. "I know confrontation is hard for you, and I still encouraged you to go to a school that almost endorses it." There's some shuffling on the other end of line, a clicking sound, and when his voice speaks again, it's muffled. "I pushed you too far, and as your master, I should've known that."

"I-Master, I-" Mob says, desperately trying to find the words to explain himself. "I just-"

"If you want to quit, Mob, that's ok," Reigen says, and any train of thought Mob was building is immediately derailed. "We can figure out something else to help manage your quirk, we'll go back to our normal routine, find someone else to train you, I don't know-"

"Master Reigen," Mob says, sharp enough that it stops Reigen mid-ramble.

"...Yeah?"

Mob takes a deep breath. "I don't want anyone else to train me," he says first, because that's what feels the most important. "And I don't regret coming here."

It doesn't fully register until he says it, but once he does the information slots neatly into place. As hard as his time at U.A. has been, he likes all of his new friends. The idea of never having met them strikes an uncomfortable cord within him, he only doesn't get why they all have to hurt each other. He doesn't understand what cause they have to prove themselves worthy for while they're all just students.

Reigen hums. "...Alright then," he says eventually. "Then what do you want to do next?"

The question hits like a blow, striking down whatever confidence that Mob had been gaining. "I don't know," he says. "I just want-"

Mob finds he wants a lot of things at the moment when he thinks about it, a lot of them conflicting. He wants to go home, he wants to stay. He wants to see Midoriya and all his friends, but he also doesn't want to see them. He wants to stay at U.A., but he doesn't want to have to hurt people to do so.

"I want to stop this," is what he settles for.

"Yeah?" Reigen says after he doesn't elaborate. "What's that?"

"I want to stop all of us fighting," Mob says. "I want to stop all my friends from getting hurt." He pauses. "I want them to know why I don't like them being hurt."

Reigen clicks his tongue. "You're real mature Mob, you know that?"

Mob blinks. "What do you mean?"

"Nothing, nothing," Reigen says, and Mob can almost picture him brushing the statement off with a wave of his hand. "Anyway, so what you're saying is you want to talk to your friends right? Tell them what you think?"

Mob's face pinches up, "I guess?"

"I think it'll be a good starting point at least," Reigen says. "You can't stop your friends from doing what they're doing right now, it's not good to dwell on it. All you can do is talk to them and hope they listen to you."

"...What do I do if they don't listen?"

"That's up to you," Reigen says. "I don't know your friends that well. But Mob, listen. Remember what I told you? You've got charm."

"I've got charm," Mob repeats, voice monotone.

"That's right," Reigen says. "You're strong, not cause of your quirk, but emotionally! And if your friends can't tell the difference, then that's on them. You just have to do your best to lead by example."

Mob opens his mouth, not sure what to say next, when the sound of a large explosion rings out throughout the room, shaking it. Mob grabs onto a nearby chair, looking around for the source. "What was that?" he asks.

"Ahhh," Reigen says. "That's probably what's happening outside. Your friends are out having their match right now, that blond kid and the one with the rosy cheeks?"

"Uraraka," Mob breaths.

"Yeah, that's the one," Reigen says. "She pulled off a, well, a kinda cool stunt to try and win the fight. It looks like she's down now though."

"Is she hurt?" Mob asks immediately, already starting to hurry towards the door.

"Oh," Reigen says, "oh no, she's fine. Just a little worn down I think. She'll be ok."

Mob pauses, hand on the knob. "Master," he says quietly.

"Hmmm?"

"Am I doing the right thing?"

"...Where'd that come from?"

Mob takes a shallow breath, staring blankly through the window at the door without really seeing anything. "I hurt someone," he says. "I didn't even use my quirk and I still hurt someone."

"Hey, hey, Mob," Reigen says gently. "Calm down for a second. Deep breaths."

Reigen waits patiently for Mob to get his breath back to normal before continuing. He sighs, "Oi, Mob, what did I tell you yesterday?"

The question throws Mob for a second, and he pauses. Yesterday feels like ages ago. He scrunches his face as he tries to remember. "I-" he says, tongue heavy and words clumsy. "Do my best?"

Reigen tsks at him. "I told you that everyone would be doing their best, and that should include you. And that doesn't mean going all out all the time, that means doing the best you can in the moment."

Mob blinks. "I don't understand."

"Do you feel like things could've gone worse?"

Mob takes a moment to really think about that, turning the question over in his head. "Yes," he says finally.

"You see?" Reigen says. "If it could've gone worse, then that means you did the best you could."

_Seventy-five._

Mob feels something in his chest loosen, the pressure easing up just enough that it makes it easier to breathe. He huffs, letting go of the doorknob and letting his hand fall back to his side. "Master," he says, "Thank you."

Reigen makes a little noise, a high pitched whistle. "Yeah-I!" he says. "Yeah, it's no problem Mob. Anytime."

There's a moment of silence that Mob takes to close his eyes and take a deep breath through his nose, in and out. Nothing's changed much, but he feels a little better prepared to handle it at least.

"Hey," Reigen says, voice suddenly serious again. "Listen, I meant what I said. You can stop anytime, there's no pressure. We can always figure out something else to do."

Mob thinks of Ritsu's lips pressed together tightly, telling him he didn't think U.A. was the best fit for him if they were irresponsible with his safety. He thinks of Midoriya telling him to do what he needed to. He opens his mouth.

The door to the preparation room opens suddenly, Uraraka walks in with a bandage on her cheek and tear tracks down her face. She doesn't look up at him as she enters, staring down at her feet.

"Uraraka?" he asks, pulling the phone away from his ear.

Her head snaps up, eyes wide. "M-Mob!" she stutters, lifting a frantic arm to rub away at her tears. She sniffles. "What are you doing here?"

"Mob?" Reigen asks distantly. "What's going on?"

"Master Reigen, I have to go now. I'll call you back."

"Mob, wait, wha-?" Mob presses end and cuts Reigen's voice off with a click.

"You didn't-You didn't have to end your phone call for me!" Uraraka says. Mob notes that her face is red, whether that's from the crying or something else he doesn't know. "I'm fine, I promise."

"You're crying," Mob says bluntly.

"Well...yeah…" Uraraka trails off, looking away from him. "But I'm just being a big baby, it's no big deal."

Mob frowns, taking a step towards her. "It seems like a big deal if you're crying."

Uraraka tilts her head at him, eyes narrow and puffy. "I just…It's just that I…"

Mob waits patiently. Uraraka takes a deep breath.

"I just lost against Bakugou that's all," she says in a rush, bringing up a hand to rub at the back at her neck. "Even trying my hardest I still…" Her face twitches, eyes getting watery again.

Mob feels his stomach drop and he takes another step forward, unsure of what to do next. His hand twitches, and then, very carefully, he picks up his hand and places it on her shoulder.

Uraraka jolts, startled out of her attempt to start crying again. She looks at Mob's hand and then back at his face. "Mob, um, you don't have to do that, it's fine I-I-" Her face twitches again, and then she sobs, throwing her arms around him.

Mob grunts, eyes widening with the force of it. He blinks a couple of times and then slowly picks up his arms to wrap awkwardly back around her as she sniffles into his shoulder.

It doesn't go on for long, she's pulling away and wiping her eyes before he can entirely process it. "Sorry, I-I know you don't like to be touched that much."

"It's fine," Mob says. "I think you needed it."

She gives him a watery smile, hiccuping. "Th-Thanks. I really appreciate it."

Mob pauses, staring at her intently as he tries to figure out what to do next. He racks his brain for times that he's comforted someone when they upset. He finds that it's unsurprisingly that it's usually Midoriya, but the other boy tends to figure himself out without much interference.

"Why were you crying?" he settles on.

"Oh," Uraraka sighs. "I just, called my dad in the hall, that's all." She bites her lip. "I just, I felt like I let him down you know? But he said he was proud of me anyway, and I kinda…" She half-hearted gestures at him. "Well, you know."

Mob nods.

"But it's ok!" Uraraka continues. "I just have to try harder next time!" She smiles shakily at him. "I mean, you and Deku, you're always moving forward, I don't wanna fall behind. So even if I lost this time…" A fire lights up behind her eyes, her grin going sharper. "I won't lose again."

Mob is reminded of her determination to become a hero, her desire to give her family an easier lifestyle and follow her dreams at the same time.

"You're very strong Uraraka," he says. "I know you'll do your best."

She beams at him, and then, studying his face, her expression starts to drop. "How 'bout you?" she asks. "How are you doing?"

Mob blinks, tilting his head. "I'm fine," he says after a beat.

Uraraka's frown deepens. "Are you sure?" she says. "You looked...Well, you didn't look good after your fight."

"I'm doing better now," Mob says. "I just needed to know that I did the right thing."

Uraraka just looks at him, face unreadable to Mob. It lasts long enough that he starts to sweat.

"Mob," she says carefully. "Of course you did. Why would you think that you didn't?"

"I-" he starts, stops, takes a breath. "I've inconvenienced a lot of people because I don't know what I want. I think I'm starting to figure it out though." He blinks, eyes darting down to the bandage on her cheek as he suddenly remembers. "I don't want you all to get hurt anymore."

Uraraka slowly nods, eyes narrow. "Ok," she says. "That's...That's a good thing to want I think." She brings a hand up to her mouth in thought. "Do you...Are you looking to protect us then?"

"No," Mob says immediately, and then hesitates. "Yes?"

Uraraka hums. "Well, I don't think there's anything you can really do right now."

Mob looks down at his feet. "That's what my master said."

"But," Uraraka says, stretching out the word until Mob looks back up at her from underneath his bangs. She's smiling at him. "If there's anyone who can change things around here, I think it's you. You're strong too, right?"

Mob's eyes dart to his feet and then back up, brow creased. "I don't understand."

"Well, how 'bout this!" she says. "I'll make you a promise!" She reaches out, gently pulling out his hand and then curling her pinky finger around his. "I promise, going forward, I'll try to do my best not to do anything too reckless and hurt myself unnecessarily."

Mob stares at their intertwined fingers and then lifts up his head to stare at Uraraka. The pause seems to go on for too long, but Uraraka just smiles unwaveringly at him throughout it.

"Ok," he finally says.

"You gotta promise me something too though," she adds softly. "Promise me you'll keep doing your best, that you'll hold on to that feeling that got you this far."

Mob thinks of his feet moving without him thinking about it. He thinks of walking here, he thinks of his match, he thinks of the cavalry battle. He blinks. He had felt good during the cavalry battle, didn't he? He had forgotten that, that determination that had pushed at him.

"I will," he says, staring at their intertwined fingers. Uraraka beams.

"Good," she says.

.-.-.

Izuku can't help but feel a bit queasy after watching Uraraka's fight.

It's not the fact that she lost that eats away at him, it's how close she came to winning. He's seen Bakugou pushed to his limits before, knows what that twitching in the muscles in his arms means. Her plan was horribly reckless, but genius all the same, and given a few more minutes, it might have actually succeeded.

He's kind of glad Mob wasn't around to see the fight though.

The thought brings up another cause for concern since Mob never actually returned after his own match. From what Izuku could see from the stands, it looked like he got his nose messed up pretty bad, but with Recovery Girl on site that should have been a pretty quick fix. He worries his lip between his teeth, maybe he should go find him?

He's halfway stood up when a hand claps against his back.

"Hey," Sero says, a familiar grin plastered on his face. He doesn't look nervous at all and that's something Izuku highly envies. "You really gonna leave and miss my match?"

"No!" Izuku says, waving his hand frantically. "No! I was just going to check up on Mob and Uraraka, that's all!"

Sero laughs. "Dude, you're way too serious," he says, pointing somewhere over his shoulder, "they're literally right there."

Izuku follows his finger, finding Uraraka and Mob climbing up the stadium stairs towards them. He yelps, outright jumping out of his seat to wave at them. "Mob! Uraraka! You're back!"

Uraraka smiles at him, waving back at him. "Hey Deku!"

They situate themselves next to Izuku, with Mob directly on his right and Uraraka sitting next to him. Sero heads out almost immediately after, receiving well wishes from everyone sitting around him.

He grins, giving them all a thumbs up before he goes. "Thanks guys!" he says, "See ya'll on the other side."

Izuku watches his back until he disappears into the crowd, and when he turns back to the others, he finds Mob staring at him. He mentally pats himself on the back when he doesn't startle at the realization.

"Hey," Izuku says softly. "You all good?"

Mob blinks at him. "I'm alright," he says after a moment. "I just needed things to stop for a while."

Izuku opens his mouth, then closes it, unsure of how to respond to that.

Iida apparently knows, however, nodding vigorously in the seat to the left of Izuku. "I believe that is a wise decision Kageyama," he says. "These matches can be extremely stressful, it's unwise to push yourself too far."

Mob looks at Iida, and then back at Izuku. "I agree," he says.

It feels like a pointed remark somehow. Izuku doesn't have time to dwell on it though, Present Mic's voice once again erupting from the speakers.

"Alright! It's that time again folks! We're already at our third match here!" he shouts. "On one side of the ring, we have someone almost as plain as the other plain jane we've already seen on stage, Sero Hanta of the hero course!"

Sero stands in the ring, stretching leisurely as though he's just warming up for training rather than for a crowd of thousands of people. He shakes out his arms and cracks his neck, grin big and bold on his face.

"And on the other side of the ring, we have most likely the pinkest person you'll see today and full of spunk, Ashido Mina! Also from the hero course!"

Ashido seems to match Sero's energy, grinning right back at him. She bounces from foot to foot, seemingly unable to stand still.

"Is everybody ready?" Present Mic yells. "Get set! Go!"

Right when the match starts, Sero lifts up his arms, tape erupting out of them.

Ashido counters quickly, sliding out of the way and leaving a trail of acid in her wake. She lifts up her own hand, tosses acid towards him.

Sero dodges, aiming his elbows at her again.

It turns in a game of catch almost, with Ashido trying to hit Sero with her acid and Sero trying to trap her in his tape.

Izuku observes the fight with a critical eye. He scribbles down notes in his journal, rapidly glancing up and down to try and capture as much as he can on the arena.

It's over quickly, with Ashido landing a shot on Sero's shoulder and then creating a trail of acid that she slides him out on while he was still reeling from the pain. The crowd cheers for her and she stands in the center of the ring, arms raised in victory and smile broad across her face.

"That was awesome…" Izuku says, jotting down a couple more notes. "Ashido really knows how to use her quirk, and it's got a lot of versatility to it! Plus her reflexes are really good, she was able to dodge Sero's tape really easily and-"

"Mob?" Uraraka says.

Izuku's head snaps up from his journal. Mob sits next to him, holding himself a bit more rigidly than he had a moment ago. "Sero's hurt," he says.

Izuku follows his eyes back down to the edge of the ring, where Sero is clutching his shoulder as he moves to stand. He winces in sympathy before turning back to Mob. "He'll be alright," he tells him, "It's just a minor burn."

Mob doesn't look pleased with that answer but doesn't say anything else.

The next few fights seem to blur together after Sero returns to the stands. Each one finished after only a couple of minutes, though both have very different levels of seriousness to them.

Kirishima and Tetsutetsu's is downright brutal, absorbing hits from each other until they both collapse at the same. He glances over at Mob to see his reaction to that and finds his face carefully neutral, his head tilted forward to hide his eyes beneath his bangs.

"They both just exhausted each other," Izuku reassures him again. "Neither one is hurt or anything like that, so don't worry."

Mob just hums.

Iida and Hatsume's fight would almost be kind of funny if Izuku didn't feel so bad for Iida. He's not surprised in the slightest with how it goes down, but it really is terrible luck for Iida to go against someone so ready to take advantage of his nativity.

After about ten minutes, Hatsume steps out of the ring, sweating and smug, leaving behind a very distressed Iida.

"Well," Sero says, looking a bit cheeky. "At least he won?"

Izuku leans forward when Kaminari and Kendou go up, interest piqued at the idea of looking at Kendou's quirk. She walks with a calm sort of confidence, the kind Izuku would expect from someone who placed in the top ten in the entrance exam.

Kaminari says something to her when the fight begins, posture cocky as he leans towards her. Kendou pulls her foot back, raising her fists into a fighting stance in response.

When sparks begin gathering around Kaminari, Kendou rushes him.

She claps her hands together as she runs, throwing her arms to the side and making a horizontal slicing motion. As they gain momentum, they grow huge, striking Kaminari in the side and sending him flying out of the ring.

He lands on his back, limbs spread in awkward positions and looking absolutely stunned.

Izuku can't feel a little bit disappointed at how quickly it ended. "Kaminari let his guard down," he says, mostly to himself. "He might have had a chance if he took it more seriously, but…" His voice trails off into a mumble as he pulls his journal right in front of his face, pen scratching across its surface. "Kendou is definitely the real deal. She obviously knows what she's doing in a fight, probably has a background in martial arts, and that only makes her better with her quirk. Maybe she has some strength enhancing too? Kaminari went pretty far…"

Uraraka leans over and hits him on the back, laughing. "Deku, are you already planning that far ahead? This is only the first round!"

Izuku jolts. "Wh-Oh! Uh no! This is just, like, a side hobby of mine! We finally have a chance to see such a wide array of quirks up close, I can't just not take advantage of that."

"Ha!" Sero grins at him, leaning over to ruffle his curls. "You really are a nerdy dude, you know? Like I knew you were, but every day it just gets worse and worse."

Izuku goes red, wrapping his arms around his face and stuttering out incomprehensible, garbled up syllables.

"I think it's a good thing," Mob says. "Midoriya is…" He pauses, bringing a finger up to his mouth in thought. "...passionate."

"Yes, I agree!" Iida says, arm coming up in a familiar chopping gesture. It's the most energy he's shown since coming back to the stands, unusually quiet since his victory. "And of course it never hurts to be well informed about matters pertaining to education, especially with skills that can be practically transferred into real-life applications! It's obvious his hobby has improved his ability to think on his feet and strategize with others. That kind of dedication is something we should all aspire to!"

Izuku wails in embarrassment, sending Uraraka and Sero into a giggling fit in response. Uraraka goes to say something else, but Izuku is immediately distracted by the sight of Todoroki walking into the ring.

He walks with similar confidence to Kendou, but there's something tenser to it, stiff like a rubber band pulled to its breaking point. He stops at the edge, head tilted downward so his hair covers up his face. Izuku's eyes get stuck on him, feels the crowd around him suddenly grow quiet as though Todoroki's intensity has washed over them.

Izuku gets his pen ready, pressing it against the paper. He doesn't dare believe he'll make it to the second round, but he hopes he does, and if that happens he wants to be ready. Besides, either way, this will be an interesting look at Todoroki's quirk, that way if there's any time in the future -

A loud crack erupts through the stadium and then it's over.

The ice is almost close enough to have brushed against Izuku's face and he stares at it, jaw slack.

From the arena behind the ice, he hears a tiny, pathetic sound, ringing out in the shocked silence. A whirling that signals Aoyama is trying to activate his naval laser. Nothing happens.

"Aoyama is unable to move!" Midnight yells, voice shaking. "Todoroki moves on to the next round!"

The crowd slowly starts cheering, shouting words of encouragement down to Aoyama. Todoroki walks towards him in slow, halting steps like his having trouble moving. He reaches out with his left hand, presses it against the ice, and it burns with a steady glow, the water fizzing and evaporating into steam.

There's something incredibly sad about it.

There's a soft sound to his right, a sharp intake of air.

Izuku risks a glance at Mob and finds the other boy turned pale. His face is blank, but his eyes are wide and his nails digging into the flesh of his palm. Izuku looks away quickly, his eyes moving to his own hand, staring at his fingers.

A one-shot knockout, entirely unavoidable.

But, if he meets it head-on, then he has eight fingers to counter with.

The idea forms quickly, reckless and desperate and entirely hypothetical. With it comes a burning rush of desire, a need to go as far as he can, a need to help.

"I don't like the look on your face," Mob says.

Izuku jumps, eyes darting back up and then quickly away when he sees how intently Mob is staring at him. He grips his wrist nervously, pulling it closer to him as though he was just caught doing something wrong. "No, no! I'm ok, I'm just thinking!"

Mob hums, and then there's a second of pause before he stands up. "You're next."

Izuku looks up at him, blinking. "Yeah," he says slowly. "Yeah, I am."

Mob nods, then there's a beat, and then he nods again. "Alright." He starts walking towards the stairs, brushing in front of Izuku.

"Mob?" Uraraka calls after him. "Is everything ok?"

Mob glances at her over his shoulder then looks at Izuku, stare unwavering. "I'm fine," he says, "I'm going to walk Midoriya to the prep room."

Uraraka throws a puzzled look at Izuku and he helplessly shrugs in response. He's not too sure of what's happening either.

She glances between the both of them, as though looking for something, and when she seems to find it, she eases back into her seat with a nod. She smiles at Izuku, reaching over the seat where Mob was in order to pat his arm. "Good luck Deku," she says, "I know you can do it."

"Yeah dude!" Sero says, clapping his shoulder. "You got this!"

Iida considers him, giving Izuku a once over before nodding. "Do your best Midoriya, you have prepared for this I'm sure."

Izuku feels himself start to tear up, immediately overwhelmed by the unfamiliar amount of support. He lifts up and wipes his face with his palms as he stands. "Thanks guys," he says. "I'll make you proud."

"Are you ready?" Mob asks.

"Yeah," Izuku says, then nods. "Yeah, I think I am."

They walk together with a comfortable silence, despite how frayed all of Izuku's nerves feel. There's something calming about Mob's presence that Izuku just doesn't have the words for, but he enjoys all the same.

When they make it to the hallway before the prep room, Mob stops walking entirely. Izuku gets a couple of paces in front of him before he realizes and stops as well.

"Mob?" he says. "Is something up?"

Mob stares at him as though he's looking right through him, pausing for an unnaturally long period of time. He opens his mouth and then closes it, brow furrowing as he seems to search for the right words. Izuku waits, knowing he'll only make it harder on Mob if he speaks, but nervously fidgets in place all the same.

"Are you planning on hurting yourself?" is what Mob finally asks.

It's Izuku's turn to pause, suddenly gobsmacked. His mouth moves, but no sound comes out as his brain tries to wrap itself around the question. "I-" There's no really good answer, nothing he can say that will satisfy Mob after learning everything he has about the other boy.

He thinks of their first training exercise, of Mob's refusal to fight him. It's not right, he had said. We're only students.

"I-I don't know," Izuku says, words tumbling out. His eyes dart down to the floor, glancing around as though he'll somehow find the right answer by his feet. "I don't know if I'll have a choice."

Mob doesn't say anything, and for some reason that spurs Izuku to continue, unable to meet his eyes.

"I just…" He runs one hand through his curls, and then the other, gripping at his hair. "I just don't know, there's nothing else I can really do, you know? I need to figure out how I'm going to do this now, otherwise I'm just gonna keep hurting myself in the future."

Mob tilts his head. "So you'll keep getting hurt," he says tonelessly.

"Ahh! We-Well, no- I mean-" Izuku looks up at him from underneath his lashes, hand coming up to rub the back of his neck. "It should be fine when I get the hang of it!" Mob stares at him blankly, though Izuku can't help but read something accusatory in it.

Desperate to reassure him and also dissolve some of the tension that seems to be growing between them, Izuku plows forward. "Besides!" he squeaks. "I'm fighting Yaoyorozu this round, so I shouldn't have to use my quirk anyway. I've been thinking and it's not like she has a strength enhancement quirk or anything like that, you know? This round will just be...about whose...quicker…"

Izuku trails off, blindsided by just how hopeful Mob suddenly looks. Nothing really changes in his face, but regardless his whole expression seems to light up, eyes shining.

"Do you promise?"

"Promise?"

Mob's head bobs up and down, the movement unnaturally animated for him. "Can you promise not to use your quirk this round?"

Izuku blinks, eyes moving somewhere over Mob's shoulder. "Uhhh."

He shouldn't have to use his quirk right? From what he knows of Yaoyorozu's quirk, he should be fine without it. She's scarily smart, but her abilities depend on how quickly she can make items to help her out. And chances are that during the fight she'll make something simple, something that takes less time, weaponry of some kind? Can Izuku really combat that without his quirk?

"Yeah," Izuku hears himself saying distantly. "Yeah, I promise."

He wants to shake himself the second the words come out. He shouldn't be making promises he's not sure he can keep. What would his mother say if she knew?

But then Mob gives him a tiny smile and it's like all his thoughts dribble out of his ears.

"I'm glad," Mob says, reaching out to place a gentle hand on Izuku's forearm. "Good luck Midoriya."

Izuku stares at his hand, and then slowly looks back up to Mob's face, worrying his lip. "Yeah," he says. "Thanks, Mob."

"Young Midoriya!" All Might exclaims, suddenly appearing around a corner in his muscular form. "And Young Kageyama too! How are you two doing?"

"I'm fine," Mob says.

Izuku nods in agreement, ignoring the heavy feeling in his gut. "I'm ok too," he says, feeling anything but.

All Might stops in front of them and there's a second of awkward silence, then he coughs. "Ahh, uh, Young Kageyama. May I speak to Midoriya alone for a moment?"

Mob looks between the two of them and then nods. "I'll go back to the stands then," he says. He starts to walk away and then pauses, seeming to realize something. He turns back around, gives a small wave, and then disappears around a corner.

"He really is a good kid," All Might says. "A little strange, but good."

Izuku is reminded of that first night he met Mob on the beach and thinks of how much things have changed since then. He nods in agreement.

Then All Might hacks a few more times, blood spewing out of his mouth and smoke curling around him till he appears back, muscles relaxed and skeleton pressing against his skin. "Oof." He pats his chest, wincing.

"All Might?" Izuku says, eyes wide in alarm and arms reaching toward him in concern. "Are you ok?!"

"I'm fine, my boy," All Might says, grinning at him before reaching up and wiping the blood away from his mouth. "Anyway, it looks like you're finally getting a hold of One for All!"

Izuku looks at his hand, thinking of how it felt to brush away the Todoroki's flames with the sweep of his hand. "I'm still nervous…" he says slowly. "I don't want to mess this up and using it still feels...dangerous. Like if I don't focus for a second, I'll lose control. I feel like I've just gotten lucky so far."

"Nonsense!" All Might yells, whacking him over the head and he yelps. "You're always working hard and doing your best, you have pushed yourself to the brink to get where you've gotten! Don't forget that!"

All Might pauses, looking him over. "Now listen," he says. "When you're feeling scared, just remember to smile! You've come so far, so you have to show some bravado, even if you're just faking it! Never forget I'm expecting big things from you!"

Izuku's mouth clamps shut, sweat dripping down his cheek. The pressure of the first round suddenly feels even more intense. "I won't forget All Might," he says, "I promise."

.-.-.

Momo walks into the arena with her head held high.

On the other side of the field, she sees Midoriya approaching, looking nervous. He's hunched in on himself, tension evident on his features. Even still, he seems like he's trying to smile, though it looks more like a grimace than anything else.

They come to a standstill across from each other in the ring and she sizes him up. He certainly doesn't look like much, but he's proven himself to be a very worthy adversary throughout all of this entire competition. Looks are deceiving as they say.

Still, she's uncertain of how well he will fair in a one on one match. His quirk makes him a glass cannon, and without Kageyama and his friends to direct, he doesn't have much of a chance of winning without injuring himself severely.

"And now onto the last match of the first round!" Present Mic yells over the speakers, deafeningly loud even over the crowd. "He's...sort of smiling? Izuku Midoriya from the hero course! Verus! Here on recommendations and the picture of elegance, Yaoyorozu Momo!"

"Midoriya," she says with a nod. Then she drops into a fighting stance, "I'm afraid I can't afford to go down easily here."

Midoriya's wobbly smile goes sharper as he mimics her. "Same here," he says. "Good luck Yaoyorozu."

"Ready! Set!" Present Mic yells. "START!"

A shield pops out Momo's arm, she clutches onto the back of it. She rushes Midoriya before he can even take a step, his eyes wide.

She feels more than sees the moment of impact. Midoriya grunts and she pushes with all she has, trying to force him out of the ring.

Midoriya pulls his leg back and kicks at her shins before she has time to counter. She lets out a pained breath, easing off of him unintentionally.

He takes full advantage, grabbing at the bottom of her shield and pulling it up, trying to send her to her back. She digs her feet into the ground, loosening her grip and letting her only defense fly out of her hands. It lands with a clank behind her.

She sees Midoriya reaching toward her again, teeth gritted together, and without thinking about it a metal pipe thrusts out of her stomach and through her tracksuit.

It hits Midoriya straight in the gut and his face goes slack in shock, breath halting completely and he stumbles backward a couple of steps.

She chases after him, but trips, pulling him down with her. She lands on top of him, hesitating in her surprise.

It costs her. Midoriya recovers quicker, knee coming up and hits her in the stomach. The pain immediately makes it hard to focus, let alone create anything, so she does the first thing she can think of and punches him back.

It's undignified. They roll around on the ground, exchanging clumsy blows as each one of them as they try to gain some type of leverage over the other.

Midoriya makes it up to his feet first, clumsily stumbling upright after Momo lands a good hit against his cheek. Blood drips from between his lips, he must of bit his check.

Momo tries to follow, body sore but adrenaline running through her. Midoriya is walking backward, eyes not leaving her as she gets upright.

He's trying to get distance, she realizes. He's got something planned.

Running out of time, she creates another rod. If she gets too close she's done for, he's physically stronger than her at this point, at least in the way where it counts.

She rushes him again, screaming. The crowd has disappeared at this point. All that's left is her, Midoriya, and a shot at victory.

Midoriya lifts up his hand, fingers pressed together, and flicks.

The gust of wind is even stronger than she expected though it doesn't even hit her directly. Instead, it blows past her, creating a small hole in the stadium behind her. Her eyes chase it without any conscious thought on her part, the wind knocked straight out of her lungs.

Then Midoriya is slamming into her, hands on her shoulder pushing. Her head snaps back to him, mouth parting as she stumbles backward. She only takes a few steps, but it's a few steps to many, a buzzer going off as her feet cross over the white line.

She hears the crowd roar, suddenly aware of it again. Midoriya slowly removes his hands from her shoulders, studying her face. He swallows, and then carefully smiles at her. He's shaking, she notes. Whether it's with adrenaline or excitement or sheer pain, she doesn't know.

"Good job Yaoyorozu," he says, turning away from her. "You're quirk is really cool, you know? And you're really good in a fight! Honestly, I'm kinda surprised you didn't beat me!"

Momo grimaces, feels her face scrunch up, the platitudes not making her feel better in the slightest. She looks up at the crowd hesitantly, all cheering for the fight, for Midoriya, and her stomach tenses. It doesn't feel like a good fight, it doesn't feel like she came close. It just feels like defeat.

Her creation powers didn't serve her much at all, barely even useful. She just wasn't quick enough on her feet, didn't have a chance to think things through. Could she have even won? Or was she destined to lose? If she can't handle a simple one on one fight now, can she ever hope to later?

She watches Midoriya's back as he turns away, moving to celebrate his victory, and her chest aches.

.-.-.

Izuku cradles his right hand as he walks down the hallway towards Recovery Girl's office, brimming with pride despite the pain.

He can still barely believe that he won, against Yaoyorozu no less! Granted, the fight was more brute force than strategy based like he expected, but regardless, he had won it.

He grins at his hand. His right index finger has turned purple and swelling up, his face is on fire, and his stomach hurts something fierce, but these are things he can work with. If he can handle this pain now, it's all the more helpful for what's he's got planned for his next match with Todoroki. He's determined to tell the world he's arrived and make All Might proud of him, no matter what it takes.

He's so focused on his planning, already mentally moving onto stressing about the next fight right after the first is finished, that he doesn't even notice the blob of black hair until it enters his peripherals. And even then, it's another second before it registers and his head snaps around to find Mob pressed up against the wall.

"Mob?" he asks. "What are you doing here?" He suddenly remembers who Mob's fighting next and his eyes widen. He takes a step towards him, arms outstretched. "Is everything alright?"

Mob doesn't move for a second, gaze directed down to the floor and mouth pressed in a thin line. He looks up at Midoriya, stare intense enough that it feels like it's piercing straight through him, and then he moves to look somewhere over Izuku's shoulder.

"I wanted to make sure you were ok," Mob says. "You look bad."

His voice is ice cold, lacking any inflection whatsoever. Izuku gapes at him, suddenly feeling like an impenetrable wall has been slammed down between the two of them, making it so Izuku can't even attempt to get a proper read on him. Or maybe Mob's been building it up slowly and Izuku just didn't notice, too wrapped up in his own head, just like he always get when it really matters.

Izuku's stomach rolls with guilt as he remembers his promise. "Mob, look, I-" He swallows. "I'm- I'm sorry." He looks down at his feet. "I was just doing what I had to to win. And-!" His head snaps back up, but any assurances he might have had die on his tongue when he meets Mob's blank stare.

"You promised," Mob says.

"I-I know," Izuku says, trailing off. He brings his left thumb up to his mouth to bite at it, letting his right hand drop. Mob's eyes follow it to his side. "It's fine though! I won! And it doesn't even hurt that bad. I've had worse."

"I don't think that makes it better," Mob says. "I didn't want you to get hurt at all."

"I know you didn't, but I had to, I-" Izuku pauses, trying desperately to think of some way to explain himself in a way Mob can understand. "I have to be able to prove myself. If I can't do this, then...then-"

_What did I work so hard for?_

The words get stuck in his throat, pushed down by Mob's dispassionate stare.

"There has to be another way," Mob says sharply. "You're not trying to figure it out."

A combination of hurt and frustration flares up in Izuku at the accusation, his face scrunching up as it tries to figure out what expression it wants to make. He is trying. He knows he's probably worrying people by not being able to use his quirk without hurting himself, but it's not like he can let that stop his progress. Besides, it's not like any damage he does to himself can't be fixed. Why can't Mob just understand that already?

"There isn't another way right now," Izuku says, gritting his teeth. "The only thing I can do is try to figure it out as I go."

Mob hums, an uninterpretable sound that Izuku's too shaken up to even try to put meaning into. "You can stop," he says.

"No I can't."

Mob just stares at him. Izuku feels himself squirm underneath it, but continues to meet it head-on. The air between them is tense and full like a single spark could ignite it into an inferno.

"You're going against Todoroki next," Mob says slowly.

Izuku blinks, thrown by the sudden topic change. "Yeah?"

"I don't like it," Mob says. "You're both taking this too seriously. Someone's going to get hurt."

Izuku thinks back to his conversation with Todoroki in the hallway, remembers the look on his face as he explained the whole reason he was ever born and his resolve to rise over that on his own terms. He thinks of his conversation with All Might, of his mentor's expectation for him to tell the world that he was here now.

"You don't get it," Izuku says, frowning. "We're both aiming for the top, and that's why we have to do this."

"Do you really?"

The beginnings of anger start boiling underneath Izuku's skin and he can feel himself starting to shake. He clenches his hand into a fist and a jolt of pain runs up his arm from his broken finger. A part of him feels like this is going to be something he's going to regret, but a bigger part is too frustrated to stop now. "You don't even know if being a hero is something you want," he snaps.

Mob's eyes widen minutely before they narrow, his frown deepens. "I know that I don't want you to get hurt."

"Yeah, well you can't control that," Izuku says, teeth bared as he glares at the floor. "I have to do this, no matter what."

"No, you don't," Mob says, pauses, and then hesitantly adds, "I don't think you should."

"You just don't get it!" Izuku shouts, throwing his arm out in a wide gesture. He can feel the start of traitorous tears starting to drip down his cheeks. "I- I have to! I have so many people I need to prove myself to, I have to do this so I can be the hero I want to be! And you just can't understand because you've already done all of that! You're already a hero! You already have a master that you've proven yourself too! You've been a sidekick, an actual sidekick! And I-! And I just…"

"We're both still students. That doesn't mean anything."

Izuku laughs, a broken down sound, and runs a hand through his hair. "Of course it means something," he says.

He can hear Mob breath in as he goes to respond with something that Izuku knows he doesn't want to hear, he just wants the conversation to be over, he wants to win the argument. So, without thinking, he barrels forward with something that Bakugou always said to get him to stop in his tracks.

"Just- Just, get a clue Mob!"

Izuku winces as soon as he says it, "Wait-No, I didn't-I didn't-!" He looks back up with wide eyes, desperately waving his hands like he's trying to wipe the sentence out of existence, and feels like all the air is knocked out of him when he sees Mob's face.

He looks visibly surprised, eyes wide and mouth parted. His eyes dart quickly across Izuku's face, as if looking for some sign that he heard wrong. Then, the emotion passes as fast as it appeared, Mob immediately shutting down into nothing more than carefully guarded blankness.

"You should go see Recovery Girl," Mob says bluntly, turning away from him. "I'm going to get ready."

"Mob-Mob wait." Izuku reaches out towards him with his good hand. "I didn't mean to-"

"I'm done talking," Mob says, voice leaving no room for disagreement. He's already halfway down the hallway. "Please respect that Midoriya."

Then he turns a corner, disappearing and leaving nothing behind but a cold and distant emptiness.

.-.-.

Mob climbs the steps into the ring for the second time.

_Seventy-nine._

His whole body feels hot, hands clenched into fists by his sides, and hair beginning to drift upwards. Someone's speaking over the microphone, but he has no room in his head to pay attention to it.

His fight with Midoriya sticks to him, no matter how much he tries to shove it down. Tsubomi's face pops up, the memory of her face, smiling pretty and sharp at him. _Get a clue._

_Get a clue. Get a clue. Get a clue._

"What the hell is going on with you, Bowl for Brains? You look like you're going to blow a gasket."

Mob's head snaps up, eyes sharp and intent. He meets Bakugou's glare head-on, not shying away from it in the slightest. "I'm mad," he says. "Obviously."

Bakugou stares at him blankly, as though caught off guard, and then his expression morphs into a large grin. "Ahh, so you're finally gonna show some emotion?" he says. "You're really not as high and mighty as you think you are then?"

Mob's teeth grind together. "I'm not better than anyone else," he says. "I've already told you that."

"Yeah, and I'm calling bullshit," Bakugou says, dropping down into a fight stance, his palms open and smoking. "Now come on and let's do this."

"Ready!" Present Mic shouts.

Mob starts to raise his hand up.

"Start!"

Bakugou doesn't hesitate for a second, propelled forward suddenly by a series of explosions.

Mob barely has time to put up a barrier before Bakugou is launching a furious attack against him, explosions crackling harmless against a glimmer purple surface before they dissolve into smoke.

"Come on!" Bakugou shouts, fury written all over his features. "Take me seriously already!"

Sweat beads down Mob's cheek, the inside of the barrier starting to get hot. I am, he wants to say, but keeping up the bubble around him is taking all of his concentration.

He thinks of the training exercise and switches strategies, putting barriers around Bakugou's hands.

"Oh no you don't!"

Bakugou swings his arm back and bludgeons him with his own barrier, smacking Mob across the face and sending him sliding off on his side, body grinding against the ground

Bakugou launches himself again, but Mob raises his hand just in time for a wall to form between them.

He smacks against it, cheek pressed against the invisible surface. He pulls his hand back and starts to punch away at it, each hit emphasized with the sound of an explosion. The barrier starts to crack.

_Eight-two._

"Come on!" Bakugou yells. "Face me head on!" Spikes of energy crackle around the barrier, the flames joining with them to create bright purple sparks.

The wall breaks, and Bakugou falls back onto his feet, already raising a smoking hand. It lights up, crashing down towards the pavement.

Mob has just enough time to roll away before the hit lands, leaving a large crater in the ground from its impact. Bits of concrete shrapnel fly up from the ground, one slicing cleanly against his cheek.

"Why are you even here?" Bakugou says, looming over him and sneering. "Do you even have any idea what you're doing?"

_Eight-six._

Why is he even here? What does he actually want? He's been asking himself this entire time, but he still doesn't actually know.

_Eight-nine._

Midoriya was right, he should just get a clue.

_Ninety-five._

At the thought, Mob goes limp. All the fight leaves him in one steady burst and his eyes drift upwards towards the sky, face going blank once more. Bakugou growls, heaving him up by his collar.

"Answer me," he says, teeth snapping right in front of Mob's face.

"I don't know," Mob says, barely able to hear his own voice. Water drips down his cheek, he realizes he doesn't know if it's tears or just sweat. "I don't know."

Bakugou yells wordlessly, shaking him. "You can't come this far and not know!" he says. "You're stupid, but not that stupid! Even your dweeby friends know why they're here!"

Mob thinks of Midoriya, of the look on his face in the hallway, thinks of making people proud. He thinks of Uraraka's determination in the prep room, thinks of making his family happy. He thinks of his friends, he thinks of them sitting at a lunch table and smiling.

_Ninety-seven._

If there's anyone who can change things, Uraraka had said, it's you.

_Ninety-nine._

Something in Mob clicks into place. The answer calls him, close enough to reach out and grab. It settles inside his chest, warm and solid like it had always been there, like it belonged there. His hair flies upward, uncovering his face, and his eyes shine, bright and red.

_One hundred percent. Resolve._

Bakugou flings himself backward, letting go of Mob as though he had been burned. His face goes slack with shock before it hardens back into a wild grin. "Finally figured it out, hun?" He drops into a crouch, aimed towards Mob. "About damn time."

He flies towards Mob, arms stretched out and at the ready. Mob picks up his hand and stops him mid-air, he hovers a few feet away from him.

"I'm not doing this for you," Mob says, slowly finding the words. "And I'm not doing this for me either."

Bakugou sneers at him, arms twitching. "Oh yeah?"

"I'm doing this for my friends," he says. "I'm doing this because I want to help them."

Bakugou's eyebrow raises, then he settles back into a grin. "You're a goddamn moron," he says, and then a series of explosions erupt from his palms.

The light blinds Mob, and the smoke that comes after it only makes it worse. He coughs, eyes desperately searching around for some kind of landmark.

Bakugou suddenly appears on his right, grabbing onto his shoulder with smoldering hands that burn right through his shirt. He goes to push at Mob, but Mob latches onto his arm, digging his heels into the dirt.

Bursts of energy erupt, coming from the both of them, Bakugou's in the form of an explosion and Mob's in the form of his telekinesis. They go flying in opposite directions.

The smoke clears from the air. Bakugou's laying on his stomach and Mob on his back. They're close to opposite edges of the ring, Mob realizes, but by some stroke of luck, neither of them have left it yet.

Bakugou struggles to his feet, lifting his arms with obvious strain, the muscles in them twitching. "I'm not dead yet," he says, a wild look in his eye.

And then he's running towards Mob again, hand balled into a fist and arm pulled back.

"This is over," Mob says.

A barrier explodes outward from him, starting close to his body and then forming a dome around the entire ring. It catches Bakugou in its expansion, his face contorting as his breath shorts, and sends him flying out of the ring.

He soars all the way to the stadium wall, smashing against it so hard that it leaves a small crater. His limp body sinks down, chin pressed against his chest and arms splayed out to his sides.

Mob thinks of Ritsu, head bloody against the sidewalk, and is suddenly too tired to panic.

"Bakugou is out of the ring!" Midnight says distantly. The world sways and blurs in Mob's vision. It makes him nauseous. "Kageyama moves on to the next round!"

Mob's breath stutters in his throat, everything slowly going black. He feels his body tilt forward and nothing after that.

**To be continued…**

**Hello guy! :D**

**This chapter is finished and it is unintentionally, ridiculously long. I don't know know if every chapter is going to be this long, but this one sure is, so I hope you enjoy, lololol!**


	14. Of Reconcile and Resolution

**Note from MNL: Sorry for the delay in publishing this for you guys on FFN, I was dealing with my own stories and really hadn't been thinking too much about this one after it was published. **

**Of Reconcile and Resolution**

**By bunnyscribe on AO3**

A hush falls over class 1-A in the wake of the fight between Mob and Kacchan. Nobody seems to know what to say, even as the crowd around them erupts into applause, even as the two unconscious boys are loaded onto stretchers and are carried away.

Izuku sits on the edge of his seat, eyes following Mob as he carted off. He looks fine from this distance, uninjured, like he had just laid down for a nap. He looks small.

Something heavy sits in Izuku's stomach.

He can still see the upset that had lined Mob's posture as he had walked onto the stage, a tension that Izuku had a part in causing. His fingers twitch, a phantom sting of being broken still lingering even after being healed.

Izuku feels, well, not good.

There's still a giant bucket of emotions sloshing around inside of him, spinning around frustration, regret, and hurt. A lot more hurt than anything else if he's honest.

He is mad at himself for upsetting Mob in the heat of the moment, he really is. But at the same time, Mob just wasn't getting it. Mob has everything Izuku has ever wanted, has everything that Izuku had worked so hard to get, and it simply naturally clicked into place for him.

The whole situation is just really dumb, he thinks, chewing on the end of his pen. He can figure it out though. He just needs to convey what he means properly next time, apologize for being rude, and then everything can just go back to normal between him and Mob.

Right, that's right. He straightens up, struck with a new found resolve. It's fine, he and Mob are friends and all friends have disagreements. He and Kacchan had disagreements all the time, and they were...well, not really friends anymore. But it's fine.

It's fine.

Izuku startles when a long finger suddenly taps his shoulder. He spins around and squeals when he comes nose to nose with Tsuyu. She croaks at him.

"Tsuyu!" he gasps, bringing a hand up to his rapidly beating heart. "What's…" he gulps. "What's up?"

"Did you and Kageyama have a fight?" she asks bluntly.

Izuku goes cold, suddenly unable to look Tsuyu in the eye anymore. "What?" His voice is way too high pitched, way too suspicious. "Why would you ask that?"

In the corner of his eye, he sees Uraraka turn around to throw a confused look at Tsuyu. "Yeah," she says. "Midoriya and Mob would never fight! What would they even have to fight about?"

Tsuyu leans back in her seat again, bringing a finger up to her mouth. "Kageyama was upset after your fight with Yaoyorozu. He left really quickly."

"I just assumed he was eager to give Midoriya his congratulations," Iida says from next to Uraraka. He looks pensive now, his hand coming up to his chin. "He did express some concern before the fight began, but he seemed pretty calm throughout it."

"Nah, Mob was nervous during that whole thing," Sero says, draping himself over Uraraka's chair. "You didn't notice? He was pissed when he left."

Uraraka's eyes narrow, slowly looking over at Izuku. He starts to sweat under perspective stare, feeling as though she's trying to pull answers out of him with her eyes alone. She glances down at his previously broken finger and tenses.

Izuku pulls the hand towards him instinctively. "It's fine," he says in a rush. "It's nothing."

"Oh, Deku," Uraraka breaths. "What did you do?"

All of his friends are staring at him now, their gazes weighing heavily on him like a bag of bricks. His stomach clenches and he curls into himself. "It's nothing," he repeats.

Sero tilts his head at him, face pinching in confusion. "Doesn't really seem like nothing, dude."

Uraraka's hand lands on his arm and Izuku jolts. Her eyes are gentle and somehow that makes the whole situation worse. "Deku, it's gonna be ok," she says. "We just want to know what happened so we can help."

Izuku opens his mouth and snaps it closed, eyes going wide as he spots Kacchan stomping up the stairs over Uraraka's shoulder. They make eye contact and Izuku feels a rush of irrational anger that sweeps over him that he stamps out immediately.

_Get a clue._

There's no use in blaming Kacchan for something he decided to say of his own volition, that's just ridiculous. He upset Mob and that's his fault, blaming Kacchan doesn't solve anything.

His stomach only gets tighter when he realizes that Kacchan is making a beeline towards him, his shoulders hunched and jaw set.

Uraraka follows his line of sight, face hardening when she finds Kacchan. "Why is he coming over here?" she says under her breath.

Kacchan pushes his way through the row in front of Izuku, ignoring the protest of their classmates whose knees he jostles in the process. He comes to a stop in front of Izuku, and he notes that he doesn't look that bad off, just a band-aid stuck to his temple.

"Deku."

Izuku gulps. "Yeah?"

Kacchan shifts the weight between his feet, hands moving into his pockets. Izuku is surprised to find him not meeting his eyes, staring out into the distance somewhere above them. "Bowl for Brains," he says, and then nothing else.

"Bakugou," Uraraka says, legs tense like she's preparing to spring up at any moment. "What do you want?"

Kacchan's head snaps down so fast that Izuku wouldn't be shocked if he hurt his neck, his gaze landing sharply on Uraraka. "Stay out of this," he growls. It seems her interruption is enough to force Kacchan back on track because he turns to Izuku. "You. You pissed off that Bowl for Brains."

Izuku blinks. "I-I didn't-um-I didn't do anyth-"

Kacchan lifts up his foot and stomps it on the chair in front of him. Izuku goes cross-eyed to stare at his knee, squeaking.

"You know what you did," Kacchan sneers. "And to be honest, I couldn't give a damn what it was, but you cost me my win."

"Kacchan…" Izuku says hesitantly. "Mob…" He thinks of Mob in those seconds before he passed out, hidden underneath that shimmering barrier, barely visible. He thinks of Kacchan's body slumped against the concrete wall, the imprint of where he hit left on it.

"Mob beat you fair and square," he says, voice distant to his own ears.

Kacchan bares his teeth, "Like hell he did!" He pushes against the chair with his foot and it creaks underneath the weight. "A win like that...it isn't worth anything! Even if the world at large wants to say that idiot was the winner, if I don't recognize it then it's just nothing more than a fraud!"

Uraraka actually does jump up then, matching Bakugou's energy immediately. "What are you even talking about?!" she yells, swinging her arms above her. "Mob won! He beat you! What part of that can't you understand?"

"I said I can't accept that loss! What part of this aren't _you _getting?!" Kacchan's snarls. Then he huffs, bringing his foot back down, and seems to compose himself at least a little bit.

"Bowl for Brains Bastard was still hiding like the coward he is," he says after a moment. "He could've just tried tossing me out of that ring the second he got a chance, but instead he pushed me out with that damn bubble. He was still holding back, even after all that shit he said out there."

Uraraka deflates, eyes narrowing in confusion. "What did he say?"

Kacchan looks at her and glances away just as quickly, clicking his tongue. "It doesn't matter, it doesn't change anything." He starts to move away. "Just let him know that next time, he better get his shit together before he fights me." He throws a glare at Izuku over his shoulder. "I won't lose again."

Izuku's breath stutters in his throat, a little too panicky to be able to inhale properly. He feels cold as he watches Kacchan stomp over to the other side of their seating area.

"Deku," Uraraka says, looking at him in concern. Her hands hover next to him, as though she's afraid to touch. "You need to calm down and explain what happened. We can't help if we don't know."

"I-I-I," he says, mouth clumsily trying to form any words he can think of. He tries to think about how he would even start to explain this whole situation, but all he can think about is what Mob might've said to Kacchan. Tears are starting to collect in the corners of his eyes.

A hand grabs at his shoulder, a grounding weight that he immediately latches onto. "Let's leave Midoriya alone for a bit," Tsuyu says from behind him. Her voice is flat but he suddenly has no energy to turn around and try to interpret her expression. "Look, the next fight is starting now."

Izuku steadies the journal on his lap more out of habit rather than anything else. He doesn't have the motivation to write anything down, but he gets the same kind of tunnel vision that he always does when it comes to anything quirk related. It's comforting in a way, to be able to completely tune out his friends and their concern and focus on something a little less meaningful in comparison.

Kirishima and Ashido stand across from each other on the ring. Ashido looks as casual as she did during her fight with Sero, hopping around from foot to foot, stretching her arms, a huge smile spread across her face.

Kirishima seems to be trying to match her, but there's something stiffer in how he carries himself, his smile tight. He looks determined in a way, but Izuku can't help but think there might be something more to it.

"Is everybody reaaadyyy?" Present Mic shouts over the speakers. The audience cheers in response, and Present Mic laughs. "Alright then! Let's get this started then! Ready...Set...Begin!"

Ashido's darting across the stage the second the match starts, acid visibly forming on her right palm. She reels her hand back and then swings it forward, aiming directly for Kirishima's face.

Kirishima immediately brings his arms up into a block, hardening them. The acid does nothing more than create a shiny coat against the rough skin.

He steps to the side, attempting to get behind Ashido, but she spins around faster by creating a puddle of acid under her feet.

They continue to dance around each other for several minutes in this way. Ashido aims for the weak parts in Kirishima's defenses, forcing him to harden them, and then ducks out of the way before he can hit her.

"What are they doing?" Uraraka asks after a while. "Why doesn't Ashido just try to slide him out of the ring like she did with Sero?"

Izuku taps his pen rhythmically on his notebook, biting his lip. He had been wondering the same thing honestly. "She's not as good at up close combat as Kirishima is," he says slowly, puzzling it together as he goes. "So, she's trying to wear him down?"

"Yeah, that's probably about right," Sero says. "We were all the same team during the cavalry fight, so Kirishima told us he can't keep his harden going on forever."

"So she's taking advantage of the knowledge she gained as his teammate…" Iida says, bringing a hand up to his mouth and leaning back in his seat. "Not the noblest of strategies perhaps, but effective I suppose."

Izuku flips to Ashido's page in his notebook, glancing between what he has written and the fight. "She's going to have to finish it soon though. She's got limits on what she can do too, look at her hands."

Out on the ring, Ashido lands another hit against Kirishima's shoulder and it glows a bright red with the sting of the acid. Kirishima takes in a sharp breath and the next punch he throws at her is a little more clumsy.

Ashido slides backward, breathing heavy. Her normally light pink palms are turning a cherry red, the corrosive acid starting to take its toll.

She launches back at Kirishima, hand pressing against his stomach, and this time Kirishima's hardening doesn't activate.

He gasps, stumbling backward as his shirt dissipates and leaves a shiny handprint pressed into his skin.

Ashido takes complete advantage of his shock, reaching out and pushing him over so he lands on his butt. He skids around on acid left on the ground from Ashido's dodging, sliding neatly out of the ring.

"Ah!" Izuku exclaims, jolting in his seat. He flips his pen around, quickly creating another bullet point on Ashido's page. "I see, she was setting that up the whole time by dodging with the acid underneath her feet! That's such a cool strategy, I wouldn't have even thought to use her quirk to create traps like that. Obviously, that brings up a whole bunch of questions, though it really depends on how much acid she can create at one time since it seems to actually affect her after a while…"

He trails off when he feels eyes on him, looking around to find all of his friends' eyes on him. He goes red, face feeling like he had just been burned with acid himself. "Oh-Oh, sorry," he says, "I didn't-I didn't mean to go on that long."

Uraraka's face scrunches up. She opens her mouth to say something to him-

"It's fine," Tsuyu says. "That's just part of what makes you Midoriya." She turns towards Iida, tilting her head. "You're up next, aren't you?"

Iida hesitates before nodding his head up and down in quick snapping motions. "Yes, that would be correct," he says, throat working around the words.

He goes still for a moment, looking out pensively at the field, then suddenly rockets up to his feet, body tense. His glasses seem to glitter as he tilts his head toward the sun, bright enough that Izuku can't see his eyes. "I suppose I should probably go to prepare then!"

Izuku blinks at him. "Is," he says, "Is everything ok Iida?"

Iida huffs and then almost immediately deflates, shoulders sagging. "I suppose...I suppose I'm just a bit nervous," he says earnestly, eyes darting away from Izuku. He wrings his hands together. "Kendou has already proven herself to be a very worthy adversary and I worry how my fight with her will go. I would like to win, in order to make everyone who's helped me get this far proud."

"Do you know if your brother's watching?" Uraraka asks.

Iida nods jerkily. "I called him earlier, however, he's busy with work." He purses his lips. "It's probably better that way."

"Dude, you look so stressed," Sero says, huffing. "Relax. You're gonna win this so hard, it's gonna knock your brother right off of his feet."

Iida gives him a small, tense smile. "You're right. I should have more confidence in myself, or I will just go into the fight already prepared to lose." He takes a deep breath, in and out through his nose, shoulders visibly relaxing. "I will see you all when this is over then?"

"Of course, Iida," Izuku says, shooting him his own shaky smile. "Good luck out there."

The rest of their group chimes in with their well wishes, and then Iida is gone, disappearing into one of the corridors.

"Oh, I hope he wins this," Uraraka says softly, bring a hand up to her mouth. "He'll be so sad if he doesn't."

Izuku bites his lip, looking out at the ring. He can understand how Iida feels, that pressure of making someone you look up to proud of you. He's trying to do the same thing with All Might, trying to uphold his promise to him to show the world that Izuku had arrived.

_Yeah, _a traitorous part of his mind says, _but you couldn't even keep a simple promise to Mob to not hurt yourself. What makes you think you're gonna be able to keep one that's even more important?_

He shakes his head to clear out the thought. It does no good to think like that right now. He broke his promise to Mob in order to keep his one to All Might, right? Mob will understand that once they can actually talk about it.

He looks at the exit that Iida walked into, half expecting Mob to come out of it at any second.

Uraraka follows his line of sight and sighs. She pats his arm, "Mob'll be back soon, I'm sure. He probably wants to talk to you just as bad as you want to talk to him, don't worry."

The words have the opposite effect of what they intended, as Izuku is suddenly forced to consider the possibility that Mob won't even want to talk to him. "I-" He can feel himself start to fidget. "Yeah. Yeah, you're right."

Uraraka frowns at him.

"Kageyama is a patient person," Tsuyu says. "He can deal with Bakugou fine, so he can definitely deal with Midoriya."

Sero snorts. "Can anyone actually deal with Bakugou?" he asks. "I mean, like in all seriousness, have you seen the dude?"

Tsuyu croaks, tilting her head. "He's not so bad I don't think. Though I don't like how he treats Midoriya."

"Yeah! I mean he's just so mean to him!" Uraraka agrees. She puts her hands against her head and using her index fingers to mimic devil horns and snarls in a way that imitates Bakugou. "He's a real monster!"

Izuku lets out a surprised laugh. "He's not that bad!" he says automatically. "You know...he's a jerk but, he's...he's really good at what he does." He thinks about Bakugou pressed against Mob's barrier, how his fist pounded cracks into it. "I just wish...I wish…" He pauses.

"I don't know," he says after a moment, eyes moving down to his notebook without really taking anything in. "Sorry, ignore me."

Uraraka's concerned face hovers in the corner of his vision. "Deku..."

"Oh shoot, guys, look," Sero says, pointing out towards the ring. "Iida's on."

Iida and Kendou stand on opposing sides of the stage, both holding themselves with an equal level of stiff formality.

Kendou is smiling at least, something different than how she began her fight with Kaminari. She has an air of confidence around her still, but there's something leaner in the way she holds herself, something that tells Izuku that she's taking this fight more seriously.

Iida bows at her when Present Mic begins his introductions, upper body tilting in what appears to be a ninety-degree angle. Kendou looks surprised but pleased by that, and she curtsies in return. Izuku leans forward in his seat, Kacchan momentarily forgotten.

"Let the battle begin!" Present Mic screeches over the speakers, loud enough that his voice crackles. "Fight on!"

Iida moves forward with a burst of speed, engines glowing a hot red. Kendou side steps, lifting up a growing hand like a matador might lift a red cloth.

Iida slams into it in a blur, coming to a halt in an instant. The wind is immediately knocked out of him and he lands flat on his back, bouncing on the ground from the force of the hit.

Then Kendou reaches down, scoops him down with two giant fists, and chucks him out of the ring. The buzzer goes off.

And just like that is over.

Sero winces. "Oh, that wasn't good."

"Kendou's really good on her feet," Izuku says, bringing a hand up to cover his mouth. "She figured he'd want to go the least violent route possible and so she knew what Iida was going to attempt even before the fight started. She read him like a book."

"Oh, poor Iida," Uraraka says, face scrunching up and empathy clear in her features. "That can't have felt good."

Izuku watches as Iida pushes himself onto his elbows, breathing visibly heavy. Kendou approaches him carefully, extending out a hand towards him and shooting him a small smile.

She says something to him, and Iida hesitates on a moment before nodding and accepting her help up.

Sero huffs and smacks his hand on the top on Izuku's head. "Alright!" he says. "Looks like you and Mob are the last one in our little friend group still in the running then, so one of you's has to win for us."

"Wait, what?" Izuku squawks. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"No no, Sero's right," Uraraka says, voice going grave. "You guys now have to bring home the gold for us." Her face stays firm only for another moment, eyes moving around his face, before she cracks into a bright grin. "Deku, I'm kidding! You don't have to look so serious!"

Izuku clenches his fist and relaxes them, eyes moving towards his lap where they sit. Underneath them the notebook rests on his legs, untouched during Iida and Kendou's fight, strategies scribbled into the margins in messy handwriting. On one of the pages is the notes for his next fight, containing all the information he could get on what he'd seen from Todoroki's quirk so far.

He's been looking at this from all different angles, especially since his and Mob's fight, and it all boils down to the plan he had thought up earlier. It's all he can think of, and that means he has to use it.

His disagreement with Mob can be fixed later, he can't worry about it now especially with the other boy still not back yet. He has to do this for himself, for Todoroki, for All Might, and for all of his friends. There's no other option here.

Mob had told Izuku that he wasn't trying to figure out another way to use his quirk without hurting himself, but he was wrong. Izuku was doing everything he could think to do right now, and Mob would see that later when he got it under control.

Then everything would go back to normal.

Right.

"Midoriya," Tsuyu says, "Was your and Kageyama's fight about your next match?"

Izuku spins around to face her, surprised. "Why-Why would you ask that?"

Tsuyu tilts her head. "You've got a bad look on your face," she says bluntly. "You look like my brother when he does something he's not supposed to. Besides," she looks down at his hands, "Kageyama was upset when you hurt yourself and I think that's what you're planning to do again."

Izuku feels his body starting to get warmer. "I have to do this," he says, voice sounding hollow even to himself. "I have to."

"Dude," Sero groans, running a hand over his face. "Are you actually telling me you fought with Mob over something that ridiculous?"

Izuku glares at him. "It's not ridiculous," he snaps, and then immediately regrets it. "I mean-"

"No, man, it totally is," Sero interrupts, holding up his index finger and looking at him sternly. "You made each other mad over our _first _sports festival?"

"You're not getting it either," Izuku says, that same frustration he felt before bubbling to the surface. "I have to do this to get where I want to go, this is my first step to becoming a hero." He thinks of All Might. "I have to-" he looks down at his hands, clenching them tightly into shaking fists. "I have to tell the world I'm here."

Sero scoffs. "Well, yeah, what do you think all the rest of us are trying to do?"

"It's not the same-"

"Yeah, no," Sero says. "I think it's exactly the same."

Izuku bristles at being interrupted again. "You don't understand."

Sero throws his hands out in a wide gesture, "No, Midoriya! I get it, we've all got something to prove here! You, me, Bakugou, Uraraka, hell, even Mob It's not just you and acting like it is? That's really self-centered dude."

Izuku gapes at him, stunned into silence.

Sero runs a hand through his hair. "Look," he says. "We've all got to do our best here, and if Mob's trying to hold you back from that, well, it's not cool of him. But that also doesn't mean he was entirely wrong to try either."

"He-" Izuku says, finding his voice again. "He's already into heroics work, but for me, this is-this is my only shot-"

"Midoriya, man," Sero says, shooting him a sharp look. "We've still got three years left. You don't have to save the world just yet, you know?"

Izuku spots Todoroki passing behind Sero on his way to the hallway. They meet eyes, Todoroki's cold and dead stare piercing through him. Izuku bolts up out of his seat.

"I-I have to go now," he says, feeling tears starting to collect in the corners of his eyes. "I'm sorry, I have to go."

"Deku," Uraraka says, reaching out towards him, "please, Deku, wait-!"

Izuku pushes past her knees and rushes toward the exit, not looking back.

.-.-.

Izuku practically stomps down the hallway towards the stage, furiously rubbing the tear tracks off of his face.

He feels sick, like if he stops walking he might actually puke, but at the same time, he can feel himself dragging his feet towards the ring. Still, he's marching forward, he's putting one foot in front of the other because he has to.

_Three years left._

Sero's words stick to him in the same way his tape might, and as much as he wants to discard them entirely, he finds that he can't. They do have time left, that's true, but Izuku also knows how quickly that time will pass. This might not be his last shot, per se, but it is his first shot and that's probably just as important.

_Only three years left._

And his friends, they just-they didn't get it. They didn't understand how he got here.

They didn't know how hard he had to work under All Might to even earn a place at the starting line they were born on. And that's why he needs to prove himself here, or else what does it matter? And once he does that, once he shows he was worthy, all his friends will get it, won't they? Yeah, yeah they will, he knows they will.

He just needs to beat Todoroki and move on to the next round and that will show his friends what he means in a way that's better than words.

The thought of Todoroki slows him down, and he thinks back to their conversation in the hallway. In a way, Todoroki had to have worked hard to get here too right? He had been practically set up to be a hero, he had been made for it, and yet he still works in order to suppress an entire part of himself that might even be beneficial to him if used correctly.

It sounds sad when he thinks about it that way, but the narrative feels strangely familiar. Where has he-?

Endeavor rounds the corner in front of him. "Ah," he says, "It's you."

Izuku jolts, letting out a squeak. "End-?! Why are you here?"

One of Endeavor's hands rests on the corner, the other coming up to point at him. "I saw what you did out there. That's an amazing quirk you have boy."

"Well-um-thanks? I guess?"

"In terms of strength, it seems on par with All Might," Endeavor continues as though he hadn't even spoken.

Izuku feels the color slowly drain from his face. He averts his eyes from Endeavor's face, moving to quickly walk past him. "I-I'm sorry but- I don't really know what you're getting at. Sorry, I've-I've gotta go now."

"Listen," Endeavor turns his head towards Izuku's back, and he feels the change in temperature that comes from his flaming beard. "My boy, Shouto. His duty is to surpass All Might, and I think his match with you will prove to be a valuable stepping stone."

Izuku's breath hitches, he thinks of Todoroki in the hallway and his declaration to deny his father everything.

"Give it all you got," Endeavor says. "You not going down easy will prove he's worthy of being here, and perhaps be the motivator he needs to get over himself."

Izuku thinks over Aoyama, frozen in the huge wall of ice. He thinks of how the crowd cheered for him but not for Todoroki.

"Sorry for involving you in this," Endeavor says, "and I apologize for my bluntness."

"I'm-" Izuku clenches his fist tightly enough to feel his nails digging into his skin. "I'm not All Might."

Endeavor hums. "I never said you were."

"Right," Izuku says. "That's right. And that means Todoroki-" he turns and looks Endeavor right in the eyes, "-isn't you."

Endeavor's eyes widen and then narrow into a furious expression, lip jutting outward. The flames of his beard roll down his chest like angry waves, and there is a moment of tense silence where their crackling is all that fills the air.

Endeavor huffs. "Don't lose in a way that's shameful to Shoto," he says. "I'll be watching."

Then he turns around and disappears back the way he came.

Izuku doesn't move for a few moments after he's gone, heaving in air and making an attempt to get his breathing back to normal. His chest feels tight and he's going light-headed with a sudden onslaught of panic. Oh god, he had just told off Endeavor right to his face. He doesn't know how to deal with that.

The righteous part of him is pleased that he did it, and he thinks again of that dead look in Todoroki's eye as he covered up his scar with his hand, speaking of his mother. The least Endeavor deserved for making Todoroki look like that was some harsh words and Izuku could clearly deliver if his last conversation with Mob was any indicator.

He doesn't know how to deal with that thought either so he shoves it down, burying it underneath his anxiety.

He starts walking again.

He doesn't stop until he makes it to the ring, doesn't stop till he climbs up the stairs, doesn't stop until he's face to face with Todoroki. His head feels fuzzy, heart thudding against his ribs almost painfully.

Todoroki stares back at him, his head tipped backward and eyes cold. "Midoriya," he says, "Are you ready?"

The world shrinks down to the two of them.

Izuku's always been good at focusing, at distracting himself when he really needed to. He pushes all the nerves he has aside, his head clearing out all the thoughts of Mob and all of his friends. It's unimportant right now, right now, Todoroki is the most important thing here.

He bends his knees, stretching out arm, middle finger pressing against his thumb, and-

A wave of ice comes rushing towards him, crackling so loud Izuku can feel it in his teeth. He flicks.

The ice breaks apart easily and Todoroki is pushed backward by the force it. He creates a wall of ice behind him and slams into it before he reaches the edge of the ring.

Izuku grips his arm, snarling.

"I expected as much," Todoroki says calmly, breath coming out foggy. "Not that it matters."

He stamps his foot down and another wave of ice comes barreling forward. Izuku breaks that one with the snap of his index finger.

His fingers are throbbing in pain, but all he can focus on is the six shots. The six chances he has left.

Another wave of ice erupts from underneath Todoroki's foot, Izuku loses another finger.

"You're trying to outlast me?" Todoroki asks. "That's not going to work."

Another wave of ice and Izuku loses the last finger on his right hand. Then there's another, crinkling towards him and glittering in the light and Izuku tenses his left hand.

Todoroki flings out from over top the wave in the same second that Izuku shoots off a blast from his middle finger.

Izuku jumps back and ice comes swiftly aiming for his foot. He feels it grip the edge of his toe before he reflexively throws back his arm and punches.

There's a burst of extreme wind that follows the impact, stirring up dust and bits of concrete. Through it, Izuku watches as Todoroki creates an even bigger ice wall and crashes into it.

Tears start collecting in Izuku's eyes as he struggles to keep himself upright, his left arm dangling uselessly by his side.

Todoroki is strong. Maybe not as physically strong as Izuku using one hundred percent of his power, but strong in terms of intellect and reflexes. Izuku is lacking in experience here.

"Midoriya," Todoroki says. Izuku notes that he's trembling, patches of ice on his arm.

"I appreciate this," he continues. "My old man...he doesn't look too happy about how this going."

Izuku wouldn't have noticed if he wasn't looking for it, but there's something extremely sad about the look Todoroki throws up at his father.

It's spiteful, it's angry, it's so very well deserved, but…

Izuku just wishes he could have gotten a better start, because Todoroki, he wasn't just here by luck. He was working hard for this...he was...working hard…

_I'll rise to the top without his power _, Todoroki had said.

_Sometimes it's too much _, Mob had told him after the USJ attack.

"You're in no condition to fight anymore," Todoroki says, taking a half a step forward and clenching his fists, the picture of confidence. "Let's finish this."

The next ice wave comes rushing towards Izuku, and the seconds it takes for it to close the gap between them feels like hours.

He quickly takes stock of what he has which doesn't amount to much. Just two hands full of broken fingers and a stomach full of guilt. He lifts up his hand and aims.

He doesn't cry out as the bones in his fingers shatter again under the force of the blow. As Todoroki sails across the stage, Izuku slowly lowers his hand, gasping in painful breaths.

"Who said," he rasps, "that I was done?"

"Why are you pushing yourself so far?" Todoroki asks, eyes wide with shock. "You're just going to break yourself down even further."

"I have to do this," Izuku says for what feels like the thousandth time. The words feel different now though, they have a new purpose to them, a resolve he's latched onto. "I didn't realize it before." He staggers back upright, wincing as he jostles his arm. "But you've worked hard to get here even if it doesn't look like it."

Todoroki's expression closes off again, going dark. It reminds Izuku of how Mob looked at him in the hallway after their fight.

"I think, we might both feel like, we've worked harder to get here than others," Izuku says. He's not sure what his words sound like right now, not even one hundred percent positive of what he's saying through all the pain, but that doesn't matter. He has to get this out, it's important.

"What are you even trying to say?" Todoroki asks.

"I'm saying, we're trying so hard to prove ourselves here because of that, that we're limiting ourselves," Izuku says. "Everyone else here, is also trying to prove themselves worthy. To win, and to make it, all the way to the top."

He clenches his fists, fingers throbbing in pain. He thinks of all the fights so far, suddenly realizing just how hard they also had to work to get there. He thinks especially of Mob and Bakugou's fight, thinks of them in terms of starting lines and end goals.

"And you're seriously trying," Izuku continues, "to prove yourself worthy with only half of your power?" The tears that started in the corners of his eyes start to dribble down his cheeks, and he clenches his fist even tighter. "If you're really here to win for yourself, then come at me with everything you've got!"

"You're really starting to piss me off!" Todoroki snarls and rushes towards him, movements slower due to the ice spreading across his side.

Izuku feels One for All course through his arm, sparks darting off of it. He ducks down, sends up a prayer to whatever celestial being is listening that he doesn't kill the other boy, and punches Todoroki right in the gut.

The wind gets knocked out of him and Todoroki goes sailing across the ring, tumbling through the air. After he stops, he pushes himself to his feet, hand hovering above his right arm covered in ice and fresh scratches from where he skidded across the concrete.

As soon as he gets his bearings, ice comes rushing out from underneath Todoroki's foot. Izuku's hands will no longer make a fist, so he puts his thumb in his mouth and pulls. The ice crackles under the force of it.

Todoroki gets pushed back against another wall of ice. "God," he says. "This is getting ridiculous. Is it really so important that you do this? What's pushing you this far?"

Izuku starts running towards him, every step sending sharp pain through his arm. "I'm just trying to keep a promise I made to win!"

He slams into Todoroki again, trying to push him towards the edge of the ring. "That's why you're here too, right? Didn't you promise me that you were going to make it to the top?"

All Todoroki has to do is lift up his arms and push him away for Izuku to go stumbling backward.

"I promised to rise to the top without my father's-"

"I'm not fighting your father right now, I'm fighting you!" Izuku yells. "Your power, your determination, your resolve! That's all your own!"

There's a moment where they both pause, the weight of the words heavy too heavy to continue moving. Todoroki stares at him, wide-eyed.

And then his entire left side sets on fire.

"Are you seriously trying to help me?" Todoroki asks, an unnatural looking grin spreading across his face. "Is this seriously what this is all about?"

Izuku grins back. "Don't worry," he says, crouching into a fighting position, "I think you've helped me out too."

"You know," Todoroki says, matching his pose. "You're going to become a great hero if you don't kill yourself first."

Izuku leaps towards him, One for All crackling through his legs. At the same time, Todoroki lifts up his arm, palm stretching out forward.

"Midoriya," he says, "thanks."

A lot of things happen simultaneously after that. Concrete ripples outward creating a barrier between them, Todoroki's flames erupting in a burst of heat that sweeps over top of it, Izuku legs bursting with pain but nothing breaking, and finally, an explosion.

Izuku does not remember the seconds between the explosion pushing him out of the ring and slamming against the wall of the stadium, but they must have happened. It says something to his ridiculous pain tolerance that he doesn't pass out, instead sliding down the wall until he's sitting. Air is hard to come by despite being surrounded by it, breaths coming out shallow and wheezy.

He feels cold, whether from the numbness, the shock is causing or just the pain, in general, he doesn't know. His stomach churns, and he's nauseous enough that if he had enough strength in his muscles to go through the motions, he would probably vomit.

Todoroki stands in the ring, shirt burned to ashes on his left side, the remains of it signed and barely clinging on. He stares at Izuku like he's surprised that Izuku lost rather than the other way around.

The medic bots roll toward Izuku in the corner of his line of sight, and that's when it really hits him.

He lost.

He fought so hard, come all this way, and he had still lost.

And this result was inevitable, even if he didn't push himself as far as he did, he still would've lost. He not only broke his promise to Mob but to All Might too and knowing that it all amounted to nothing really stings. He can't help thinking that maybe he would've won if he had kept his mouth shut, but Todoroki...

Todoroki had reminded Izuku of Mob. They were both so strong, and, they had everything set up for them. They had what should've been a clear path to being a hero, and yet they both struggled with their resolves. And it was that connection that made it so Izuku just had to say something.

He hurt Mob, he thinks as the bots load him onto the gurney, he hurt Mob really badly. But maybe, just maybe, he had helped Todoroki.

.-.-.

Consciousness eases in slowly for Mob.

He feels his heartbeat first, a steady beat thumping against his rib chest. That makes him aware of his breath, and he takes a deep one, in and out through his nose. His eyes flutter open.

The ceiling is pure white, separated into tiles. It makes him think of all the times he passed out running with the Body Improvement club, only to wake up in the nurse's office, bathed in the orange hue of the evening.

He wonders for a moment if they've been watching the sports festival.

He blinks. He had passed out, which must have meant someone had taken him to the nurse's office.

It doesn't make sense since he would've been in the stands, but he imagines Midoriya carrying him there, the way President Musashi had in middle school. Then he remembers the last conversation he had with Midoriya and promptly suppresses any more thoughts of him.

A clicking noise catches his attention, and he rolls his head towards the source.

Recovery Girl pushes her rolling chair away from her desk with a huff. The television hums with noise behind her, the distinct sound of cheering that Mob's become uncomfortably familiar with throughout the day. He spots the familiar colors of a U.A. uniform before the screen cuts to something else.

"This is getting ridiculous," Recovery Girl says under her breath. "I don't like this, not one bit, what he's-"

She seems to notice Mob's awake, stopping mid-sentence. Her face is tight and her body tense, but for a moment her eyes seem to soften when she looks at him. "Ahh, you're up," she says. "How are you feeling?"

Mob's eyes dart toward the ceiling, taking a moment to consider the question. "Fine," he says after a moment. "Tired." He looks back at Recovery Girl. "What happened?"

"Ahh, you simply passed out from exhaustion it seems." She tuts at him. "You weren't injured in the slightest, which was honestly a nice surprise after most of today's events." She turns her chair, looking back at the television. "Congratulations on your win by the way," she says, her tone falling a bit flat in a way Mob can't read.

He follows her eyes to the television. The screen has switched to a commercial, advertising some product plastered with the face of a local hero.

He wonders if that's why some people become heroes, to get on television like that. There are probably much better ways to go about it if that's the case. He wonders if anyone in his class enrolled for that reason. The thought is uncomfortable.

"Your friend will be in here in a minute or two if you'd like to wait," Recovery Girl tells him. "Though I don't know how good of a shape he'll be in to talk."

Mob blinks. "Friend?"

The doors to the infirmary open, robots wheeling themselves in with a gurney balanced delicately on top of them. They whistle and hum and beep in high pitched little noises, sounding far to jovial for what their purpose is.

Mob sits up, craning his head to get a better look at what they're carrying. And he is sadly unsurprised to see what they're carrying is Midoriya.

He looks worse than Mob has ever seen him. His left arm is stained purple like a giant bruise, and all his fingers on both hands are even worse, the bones so shattered it barely looks like the flesh is supported by anything. His face is covered in sweat and tears, eyes puffy and red in a way that tells Mob he's been crying harder than usual.

Their gazes meet and Midoriya squints at him for a second before seeming to recognize him. Mob can see the second he does because his eyes start watering again. "Mob-!" he says, cutting himself off with a choked gasp.

Mob's scrambling out of the bed before he has a second to think about it, moving towards the gurney and then stopping beside it. The robots beep at him curiously as he stands there, looming over Midoriya with no idea what to do next. Midoriya blinks, tears dripping down his face and collecting on his chin.

Mob takes a deep breath, gears in his head turning rapidly as he tries to figure out what he even wants to say.

"Kageyama, could you be a dear and help me move him to a bed?" Recovery Girl asks, pushing herself out of her chair with a grunt. "I'm afraid neither I nor the robots have the finesse that you do nowadays."

Mob looks at her and then Midoriya, eyes moving back and forth once, twice, before nodding. "Ok," he says, "I can do that."

He flexes his fingers, hesitantly stretching out his hand as it begins to glow with bright purple energy. Midoriya gets coated in the same kaleidoscope patterns, his body going entirely still as Mob picks him up and then gingerly moves him on the bed.

Midoriya sinks into the mattress, eyes fluttering shut and Mob has a moment to wonder if he's going to pass out before the door swings open again.

Midoriya's mentor from the beach sweeps inside the room, breathing harshly like Mob does after he's run a kilometer. The man looks at Mob still standing by the gurney first, then Midoriya, and finally to Recovery girl. "How-" he gasps, "How is he?"

"How do you think?" Recovery Girl snips, pushing the button on the bed so that Midoriya can sit upright. "Just look at him, his entire arm is shattered. This is unfixable without surgery and even then, there's only so much I can do."

The man wrings his hands together, looking down towards the ground and not meeting her eyes. "I-"

"You drove this boy to this," she continues, stamping her cane the floor to emphasize her sentence. "You have been pushing this boy to break his body over and over again and for what?" She tuts, shaking her head. "I don't like this, not at all."

"That's…" The man glances up at her and then over to Midoriya. "That's understandable, I suppose."

"You've started this," Recovery Girl says, glaring up at him and lifting up her cane to hover over top of Midoriya. "You've encouraged this and you've let it continue, and if you want it to stop, you best not praise him for this."

Mob clenches his hand into a fist by his side. "Will-" Both adults look up at him sharply, as though they had forgotten he was even here. "Will Midoriya be ok?"

Recovery Girl hums, something in her face seeming to soften as she looks at him. She shuffles over to him, gently placing a hand on his arm. "He'll be fine dearie," she says. "Nothing too permanent. Now, why don't you just run along, back to your friends until your next match, ok?"

Mob doesn't really want to leave. He feels frozen stiff, joints protesting as he's hurried towards the door. Nodding his head feels like breaking concrete, but he manages it. "Ok," he says, "ok." He places his hand on the knob, looking one more time at Recovery Girl like she might suddenly ask him to stay.

"Mob..." Midoriya croaks.

Mob snaps his head towards him, and in the corner of his eyes, he sees the adults do the same.

Midoriya is weakly pawing out for him, stretching the arm out that isn't broken, fingers drooping uselessly like melting candle wax. "Mob," he says again. "I'm so," he sucks in a raspy breath. "I'm so sorry."

Mob turns towards him again, brain trying to catch up with the moment. "For what?" he says after a beat.

"I'm so sorry," Midoriya says again, face scrunching up in pain, his arm dropping back down onto the bed. "I broke my promise to you for no reason-I-I couldn't even win. I'm so stupid, I'm sorry."

"You're not stupid," Mob says immediately, taking a couple of steps back towards the bed.

Midoriya gives a hollow laugh, ending it with a sharp inhale as it jostles his broken arm too much. "I should've just stopped like you said, I just didn't think...I didn't think you understood, but I was wrong. I'm sorry."

Mob narrows his eyes, processing that. "What did you think I didn't understand?"

"...How I got here," Midoriya says, no longer meeting his eyes. "I worked-so hard-to get here, and I just thought you wouldn't get that. I thought you, I thought that you of all people had it easy...You're just so cool and I-because of that I said something so stupid to you. God, I-" He goes to run a hand through his hair and yelps as his fingers shift awkwardly.

Mob takes the last steps needed to get to his side, hand moving to hover above him. "Stop moving," he says, "you're going to make it worse." Then he pauses, trying to wrap his head around Midoriya's somewhat incoherent ramblings and pick out the important pieces. It's hard because he finds that all of them seem important.

"I'm not cool," he says after a bit. "I'm really plain."

Midoriya snorts, head lolling downward.

Mob finds himself smiling thinly without meaning too, and quickly smooths out his features again. "Midoriya," he says seriously. It seems like that's enough to get Midoriya's attention, head drifting back up towards him and studying his face.

"Yeah?"

"...I've worked hard to get here," Mob says, "and I'm still working hard and doing my best, and I think you're doing your best too." He hums, looking up to the ceiling to collect his thoughts. "I don't think I understand why you feel like you have to push yourself so hard, but I shouldn't have tried to stop you without asking first."

He looks back down at Midoriya who stares back, the look on his face reminding him of Tsubomi's after his confession to her. The weight of it makes his stomach clench uncomfortably. "I-" Midoriya sputters, his arm twitching in an aborted gesture. "I-What?-I don't- I don't understand. What are you trying to say?"

"I'm trying to say I'm sorry, too."

Midoriya's jaw clicks shut. He swallows. "I-" he says, words coming out thick. "You don't have anything to apologize for though? I'm the one who made you mad, I broke my promise!"

"I wasn't mad at you for breaking your promise," he says, then pauses, tilting his head. "I wasn't mad at you just for breaking your promise," he corrects. "I was mad because you keep on getting hurt and I can't stop it. I'll do better though, I think I get it more now."

Midoriya studies his face, awestruck, and then his face scrunches up and he starts crying in earnest. "Mo-Mob," he hiccups. "I'm-I'm so sorry, I should've never-I should've never told you…"

He cuts off with a sob and Mob feels his stomach drop. He spins around, looking for any sort of tissues and finds them on Recovery Girl's desk. He grabs the box and moves back towards the bed, going to hand them to Midoriya before realizing he can't really grab them himself.

"I'm sorry," Mob says, a heavy pressure sitting on his chest as he reaches into the box and pulls a tissue out. He lifts it up to Midoriya's face, pausing only for a second before he wipes some of the tears off. "I didn't mean to make you cry."

"I-I-I," Midoriya stutters, breath hitching. "I should've never told you to get a clue! You-You...You have way more of a clue than I do, you're-you're just- you're _amazing _."

Mob stills, pausing in wiping Midoriya's face. He feels his cheeks warm. "Oh," he exhales. "I-"

Mob hears the man behind them start to clear his throat at the same time that the door slams open. Mob jumps backward, spinning around to find Sero, Tsuyu, Uraraka, and Iida all bursting into the room. They all start attempting to talk over each other, a chorus of worried voices echoing in the small space.

"Deku, what were-" "What was that dude? Are you-" "That really was something Mido-" "What a match that was, though honestly-" "-you thinking?" "-alright?" "-riya."

Midoriya just blinks at them. "Guys? What are you-? The next match?"

Tsuyu steps forward, finger pressed to her mouth. "Ah, Mob, you're here too," she says. "That's good, you're up next."

Mob's chest tightens at the sudden reminder, and a glance at Midoriya tells him that he had forgotten too, mouth parted in a small round shape.

"Oh," he says. "Yeah, Mob, are you-are you ok?"

"I'm fine," Mob says. "Just tired." He tilts his head towards Midoriya. "I think you should be more worried about your recovery than about me."

"That's right," Recovery Girl tuts, shuffling over to Midoriya's side and nudging Mob out of the way with her body. She rummages through a drawer next to the bed and pulls out what look to Mob to be some gauze and a sling. "You all should get out of here now, shoo. I'm about to have to start surgery."

"Surgery?" The group says in sync.

"Yes, yes, now go, go!" She says, nudging Mob away with her cane.

Mob hesitantly moves towards his friends, reluctant to leave Midoriya alone. Though, he won't really be alone, will he? Recovery Girl will be there when Mob leaves, and so will Midoriya's mentor.

As if called by the thought of him, Midoriya's mentor pats Mob's shoulders. "Don't worry, Young Kageyama," he says, "Midoriya is in good hands with Recovery Girl."

Mob stares at him for a moment, eyes drifting to the shoulder the man touched and then back to him. He gives a jerky nod. "I know," he says. "Thank you for watching over him."

The man's eyes widen and then soften. "Of course," he says.

"Come on Mob!" Sero says, apparently having taken up the role of herding everyone out the door, arms stretched out wide blocking it. Uraraka's head peeks out from over his arm, backing up on her tippy toes to try and get a look at Midoriya, looking like she's about to attempt to push her way back into the room at any second.

Mob huffs. "Alright," he says, moving towards the door.

The group is already halfway down the hallway when Mob slips out of the door. He goes to shut it behind him, but for some reason pauses when he hears Midoriya's voice again.

"All Might…" Midoriya says. "I'm so sorry that I couldn't keep my promise to you either-I just-Todoroki-" He takes a sharp breath, the clank of metal tools being brought out drowning out part of what he's saying. "-of Mob."

Mob freezes, hand clutching the knob. Midoriya's mentor starts speaking in a hushed tone, and the same time Sero yells down the corridor for him. "Come on dude!" He says, waving frantically at him. "You can't be late for the semifinals man, they're the semifinals!"

Mob empties his head and quickly clicks the door shut.

_Fifty._

By the time Mob catches up with the rest of the group, he finds them all surrounding Iida, concern painted over all their faces.

Iida has his phone pressed against his ear, his face pale. The hand not holding the phone shakes, and he clenches it in a tight fist by his side. "Yes, mother," he says. "I understand, I will join you as fast as I can I promise. I love you."

He hangs up the phone and stares at it for a moment, before his eyes dart up, moving quickly to look at each of them in turn. "I'm afraid I must leave early," he tells them. "My brother has been attacked by a villain."

Uraraka gasps, her hands flying up to cover her mouth.

"Dude, oh no," Sero says, looking a bit queasy. "I'm so sorry."

"Do you need…" Tsuyu says, and then uncharacteristically hesitates, shuffling her feet. "Do you need one of us to come with you?"

Iida shakes his head stiffly. "No," he says. "This is a family matter." Then, his head snaps towards Mob and he gives him a hard stare.

"Kageyama," he takes a couple steps forward, hand reaching out towards Mob's shoulder. He pauses and seems to think better of it, dropping it down to his side. "Please do your best in this next round."

Mob stares back at him, the silence stretching on a moment too long. "I will," he says finally. "But I think you should go now."

Iida nods, takes a deep breath, and then nods again. He turns away from them, body moving mechanically, and disappears down one of the side hallways.

.-.-.

Mob ends his fight with Ashido very quickly.

It's almost too quickly, he feels like. He simply pushes her out of the ring, as easy and as simple as that.

He feels a little bit bad, but she's a very good sport about it. She stands up, dusting herself off, and walks over to him with a wide grin on her face. "Good job, Kagekun!" she says, reaching out and grabbing his hand. She shakes it with a lot of force, his arm bouncing up and down. "I won't be so easy to beat next time!"

Mob feels a bit uncomfortable at the contact, but too thrown by the new nickname to say anything. "Oh," he says. "Ok."

Ashido beams at him and lets go of his hand, waving at him as she moves off the stage.

Mob pauses for a few seconds after she's gone, looking up and down from his hand to her retreating back. Then, he turns around and walks off the stage.

He makes it back up to the stands as Todoroki and Kendou start walking into the ring. They stand across from each other, both looking grim and determined.

Mob stops on the stairs to watch them. Kendou's hands twitch, lifting up and tensing as she prepares to move. Todoroki stands stock still.

"Mob!" Uraraka calls.

Mob turns to her right as the fight begins down in the ring. As she waves at him, there's a crackling sound that rises up from the stadium and when Mob looks down again, the match is over.

Kendou's body is encased in ice, her hands are stretched out towards Todoroki. Her breath comes out steamy and she wiggles her fingers, trying desperately to curl them into fist. They barely respond to her.

Mob sees rather than hears the moment she gives up, body slumping as the fight goes out of her.

Todoroki takes a slow couple of steps towards her, lifting up his left hand and pressing it against the ice. It starts to melt and Mob is reminded of Todoroki's fight against Aoyama, the giant wall of ice that had covered the entire ring.

This time, the attack seems like it was more controlled and precise. Careful, Mob thinks. It was careful.

"Looks like our final match is set then!" Present Mic shouts over the speakers as Todoroki frees Kendou's arms. "Kageyama versus Todoroki!"

_Sixty-four._

The reality of the situation hits Mob abruptly and his stomach drops.

He actually made it to the finals. This whole crowd will be watching them now, everyone will be watching them. And whoever wins will be talked about, they'll have their face plastered everywhere and be paraded around.

You'll be popular, a person in a smiling mask told him.

Mob sucks in a deep breath and suppress the rise of emotions before he can put a name to them.

"Oh, hey, Mob!"

Midoriya appears at the bottom of the stair, grinning at him. One of his arms is hanging in a sling but the other looks fine again, his jacket hangs loosely over his shoulder. There's a bandage plastered onto his cheek and Mob wonders if it hurts for him to smile.

He comes to a stop in front of Mob, and as he studies his face, his own expression slowly drops. "Are you ok?" he asks.

Mob opens his mouth and a hand smacks against his shoulder. He turns around to find Sero grinning at him.

"Dude, he's probably just nervous," he says. "I mean, who wouldn't after getting this far? But we all know he's gonna win, so there's no real need for him to be, right?"

"Right," Uraraka agrees, maneuvering in front of the chairs until she gets to them. "We know you've got this Mob!"

Tsuyu peeks out from behind Uraraka. "There's no need to be nervous, Mob," she says. "Even if you don't win, it'll be fine."

Mob pauses, looking down at his feet, and then nods stiffly. "I know," he says, and looks up, peering through his bangs. "Thank you all for helping me get this far."

Midoriya frowns at him. "Mob, we didn't really do-"

"Of course dude!" Sero says, giving Midoriya's good shoulder a hard pat. "We'll always be cheering you on when you need us man, I know you'd do the same for us."

Mob looks at him, face going blank in confusion. "Of course," he says. "Why wouldn't I?"

Uraraka laughs, grabbing onto his hand and patting the top of it. "You're a really good person Mob," she says. "Now," she winks at him, nudging him in the direction of the stairs. "Go on! Before you're late!"

Mob smiles as well as he can, looking over his shoulder at them. The pressure in his chest is still there, but it's less overwhelming with his friends around. "Thank you," he says. "I think I'm ready for this now."

And in all honesty, he thinks he is. He turns back and starts walking down the stairs. He's found something he wants and it's more moments exactly like these, more moments with his friends all together.

"Where's Iida?" he hears Midoriya ask behind him.

Mob's blood immediately goes cold, expression blanking again. He doesn't stop walking until he gets to the preparation room.

He places the hand on the knob, takes a deep breath like his Master taught him, and opens the door to Todoroki sitting at the table.

Mob freezes. "Oh."

Todoroki jolts, looking up from his palms. "It's you," he says simply, and then goes back to staring at his hands.

Mob pauses in the doorway. "Midoriya…" he starts and then pauses, mind moving slowly as he tries to figure out what he wants to say. "You won against him using your fire."

Todoroki's head snaps toward him, eyes narrowing and shoulders tensing up. "I-" he says, voice sharp with something Mob can't recognize. Then, just as suddenly, he deflates. "I did."

"...Why?" Mob asks. "Why haven't you used it before?"

Todoroki turns back to his hands, not meeting Mob's eyes. He clenches his fingers into a fist and then relaxes them. "Midoriya," he says. "He made me forget, for a second, what was holding me back."

Mob nods slowly, processing this new information.

"You've been friends with Midoriya for a while now, haven't you?" Todoroki asks. "You're close. Has he-Has he always been like that? He's so..." He trails off.

Mob thinks of their fight in the hallway, of Midoriya's face as he had laid out on the nurse's bed and apologized.

"Midoriya makes mistakes," Mob says. "But he always tries his best, and I think…" He pauses bringing a finger to his mouth in thought. "I think this time he tried his best for you."

Todoroki stares at Mob like he's looking right through him, like he's a world away. He nods. "Yeah," he says. "Yeah, I think you're right."

Mob turns around, going to move away and head to his own prep room. Before he leaves, he looks over his shoulder. "I don't know what you're struggling with," he tells him. "But I think Midoriya would want you to try your best too."

Todoroki's eyes refocus on him, mouth twisting downward. He stands up in measure movements, palms pressing against the table.

"Good luck, Kageyama," he says.

Mob pauses and then nods. "Good luck, Todoroki."

He leaves the room, shutting the door gently behind him.

_Sixty-eight._

.-.-.

"At last! We've arrived at the final match!" Present Mic shouts. "We came here to watch the best of the best of the U.A.'s first years! And now they're coming at you live from the ring!"

Mob and Todoroki stand across from each other. Mob's chest feels tight, hands clenched so tightly by his sides that their shaking. He watches Todoroki from underneath his bangs.

Todoroki doesn't look much better off, knees bent and arms stretched out wide, preparing for the fight. His jaw is set.

"It's the final match! Todoroki vs Kageyama!" Present Mic says, voice vibrating through the air. "Now…

"START!"

Todoroki slams his hands down on the ground and ice comes rushing towards him.

Mob puts a barrier around him, and the ice grows around it, creating a tiny cave from him. It's pitch black and entirely silent.

Mob pauses for a second.

_Sixty-eight._

It's peaceful.

He allows himself to enjoy it for only a second before he drops his barrier. He tests the ice, pushing against it with his quirk. It crackles under the force.

He gives it another strong push and a giant hole burst through the ice, sunlight pouring in.

He watches Todoroki go flying backward from the gust of wind it creates. Mob goes chasing after him, propelling himself forward with his quirk.

Todoroki creates a curved wall of ice, sliding around it so he's coming at Mob from behind.

He leaps at him, arms outstretched, ice spreading up his right arm.

Mob spins around in time for Todoroki to land a hit on his face, the punch making direct contact with his cheek.

He goes sailing across the ring, weightless.

He stops himself mid-air, pulling himself in the opposite direction. He grits his teeth.

_Seventy._

He flings himself back toward Todoroki, world blurring around him. Todoroki's eyes get wider the closer he gets, lifting up his arms to guard his face.

Mob grabs his left arm. Todoroki throws him off without using his quirk.

Mob's feet skid against the ground as he lands, the soles of his shoes burning on the concrete. He pulls up both of his arms, channeling all his energy.

Todoroki goes flying upward, spinning around in the air. He stares down at Mob with a wild look in his eye, righting himself.

There's a quiet moment between them, both of the breathing heavily from the exhaustion of pushing themselves so far.

It doesn't last long. Todoroki starts struggling, and unable to find purchase in the air, starts creating shards of ice that rain down on Mob.

He easily catches those as well, holding them up in the air where they glitter in the sunlight.

Mob pauses, taking a moment to really study Todoroki as his attacks grow weaker and more desperate. His right half is almost entirely covered in ice, cracking and refreezing with each movement. His lips are curled back in a snarl that reminds Mob of angry dogs he's rescued with his Master.

Mob has a sudden realization that this is not a fair fight.

The shards stop and Todoroki slumps forward, hair falling in front of his eyes.

Mob could win right now. He could throw Todoroki right out of the ring as hard as he could and win in the way everyone expects him too.

His hands falter.

He remembers Reigen, giving his blessing to use all his power in the sports festival. He remembers Bakugou telling him to win for himself. He remembers Aizawa pulling him out into the hallway and giving him an ultimatum.

He thinks about why he's here.

The moment stretches on, the anticipation from the crowd pliable as though it sits in the ring with them. Thousands of people, waiting and watching for the outcome. His stomach lurches as he becomes aware of all the eyes on him.

_Seventy-five._

"Mob!" Midoriya's voice cries out from the stands, almost drowned out by the pressure sizzling up inside Mob. "Don't give up!"

Mob blinks, the words snapping him back into the moment. His arms tense and he holds them up higher, entirely focusing his attention on Todoroki. The fire in his eyes has dimmed, and he's now watching Mob expectantly.

Mob nods. Todoroki nods back.

He gently sets Todoroki down outside of the ring, steadying him right on his feet.

And with that, Mob wins.

The crowd stays silent for a moment, holding their breaths as though the fight hadn't ended yet. It takes one cheer, however, before they erupt into applause.

Mob looks up to where he knows Class 1-A is sitting, and gives a small thin smile. He sees his face reflected back at him on the large overhead screens and waves.

.-.-.

In a small bar located in one of the worst parts of town, Shigaraki sits with his knees pulled to his chest, his arms resting on top of them.

He's surrounded by screens that all show the same thing. A blank-faced boy with a bowl cut, All Might standing in front of him, holding out a golden metal.

The boy bows his head and All Might drapes it over his neck, smiling that same stupid, fake smile that Shigaraki has always hated. The boy's expression doesn't change as he picks his head up, watching All Might with cool disinterest.

Shigaraki knows what's hiding behind that expression though, he's seen it. He's just not sure how to work with it yet.

There's a zipping sound that comes from behind him, a warp gate that Kurogiri made opening up. Shigaraki doesn't have to look to know who it is.

"Hero Killer Stain," he says. "I'm glad you've decided to join us." He brings up a hand to scratch at his neck. "See, I have a proposition for you…"

**To be continued...**

**Hey guys! :D**

**So we have reached the end of the Sports Festival Arc! Yay! ^o^ This chapter also wound up being ridiculously long, so I might be setting a new trend here orz haha! I think I'm gonna be taking a break from SATSS for a bit with the conclusion of this arc, but don't worry! I'll still be writing other fics, most likely some for SATSS verse as well!**

**Also, at this point in the story, I'd like to thank you all so much for reading ^u^ It makes me happier than I can put into words the amount of support and kindness I've gotten for this fic. It's so important to me and so wonderful to see so many people inspired by this fic, whether that's to make fanart, write their own stories, or even just be curious enough to send my an ask or leave me a comment asking a question. Every kudo, every bookmark, every comment, it really is you guys helping make this happen and I couldn't be more thankful ;u; Thank you all so much, sincerely.**


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